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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

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yellow . cedric diggory

pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

AU: soulmates

summary: Y\N thought the whole “soulmate” business was a bunch of horse shit, honestly.

warnings: Harry falling off of his broom and Oliver losing his mind over Quidditch, but is it really suprising?

author note: I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. But please let me know if you see anthing that doesn’t seem right. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

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You woke up to your roommate Angelina sneaking in, and it was still early, so early that it was still dark. For a moment, you thought it was the rain that woke you, but then you realized it was Angelina and she was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. You let your head fall to your pillow again, groaning. Your other roommates were still sound asleep.

"I assume you were with Fred?" Your voice was hoarse since your face was still buried in your pillow.

Angelina giggled as she dropped herself to the end of your bed. "Oh, I had such a good time, Y\N."

You smiled at yourself, not knowing if she could see your face or not. "I can tell. But you two need to take it easy, though. I had to drag Percy the Head Boy to the other side of the school so you guys could sneak into the Astronomy Tower." You raised your head to see her face. "And I'm not doing it again."

Angelina laughed as she reached and kissed your cheeks. "You're the greatest prefect slash best friend ever!" She walked to her trunk that stood at the end of her bed. Taking her uniforms out of it, she turned towards the bathroom. "I'll tell Fred to buy you from those green candies you like, I promise."

"It doesn't matter, you know, since I can't see the color of it."

Angelina stood at the door, looking back at you with lovey-dovey eyes. You hated when she did that. "You'll find him, Y\N. It doesn't always happen at our age. Marry's aunt found hers when she was thirty."

"Wow, you're a great motivator, Angelina. Have you ever thought about turning it into a profession?" You yawned. “And, honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

“Sure, honey.” Then she turned and went into the bathroom, but you could hear her laughing. You fumbled for your alarm clock and looked at it. It was half-past six. You rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but it was difficult, now that you were awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours, you would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, you gave up any thought of more sleep, got up to eat something before Oliver gave you a hell of a time.

The weather seemed to worsen steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Oliver was making everyone train harder than ever. You loved playing Quidditch, but you had no idea how you survived through training because Oliver Wood was obviously a psychopath. But luckily this was your last training before the match, so you were finally going to be able to rest between your prefect duties and school work.

Now, standing in the cold, all of the Gryffindor Team was waiting for Oliver to arrive at the Quidditch pitch, which was weird because Oliver had never been late for training.

"Do you suppose he's having a breakdown again?" George asked. You could feel his body vibrate since your head was resting against his shoulder.

"I hope not; it's freezing out here!" Angelina complained.

"I don't think he would do that when he has the opportunity to torture us. Surely something is wrong." You said, your head still against George's shoulder and your eyes closed. You wished you had tried sleeping more this morning.

"At least it's not raining." You heard Alicia. "Oh, there he is!"

You opened your eyes to see. Oliver was walking towards you, and you could see the anger on his face. When he finally reached where you were standing, he gave his team some unwelcome news.

“We’re not playing Slytherin!” he told you, looking like he could throw a fit any time. “Flint’s just been to see me. We’re playing Hufflepuff instead.”

“Why?” chorused the rest of the team.

“Flint’s excuse is that their Seeker’s arm’s still injured,” said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. “But it’s obvious why they’re doing it. They don’t want to play in this weather. They think it’ll damage their chances."

“There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm!” said Harry furiously. “He’s faking it!”

“I know that, but we can’t prove it,” said Wood bitterly, “And we’ve been practicing all those moves assuming we’re playing Slytherin, and instead it’s Hufflepuff, and their style’s quite different. They’ve got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory —”

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie suddenly giggled. “What?” said Wood, frowning at this lighthearted behavior.

“He’s that tall, good-looking one, isn’t he?” said Angelina.

"Oi!" Fred yelled. "I'm right here, you know!"

“Strong and silent,” said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

“He’s only silent because he’s too thick to string two words together,” said Fred impatiently. “I don’t know why you’re worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover. The last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?”

“We were playing in completely different conditions!” Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly.

“Diggory’s put a very strong side together! He’s an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you’d take it like this! We mustn’t relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!”

“Oliver, calm down!” said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. “We’re taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously.”

"Perhaps we could use Y\N for distraction." Alicia slyly smiled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, not knowing what Alicia meant, but surely it couldn't be something good.

"Don't tell me you've never realized it!"

"Realize what, Alicia?" Now you were sure she was only doing it to get on your nerves. "His eyes are always on you on meals!" She turned to look others. "We believe he has a crush on our little Y\N."

"Diggory?" George asked. "He better stay away, that git."

"Why, Weasley, you in love with her too?" Alicia laughed. You didn’t let George speak. "You're just being ridiculous. We don't even know each other. There's no way Diggory has a crush on me."

"I wouldn't be so sure, honey," said Angelina. But before you could say anything, Oliver was back to yelling about not having any time for your little girl crushes.

There were a lot of things loved about playing quidditch, but now standing on your broom, drenched to the bone because of the awful rain, dementors lurking around, you couldn't think of one good reason why you were playing this stupid sport. Holding the quaffle under your one arm, you tried to strengthen your grip on your broom, but it was useless; your hands were slipping under the rain. Your muscles were stiff as if screaming you to stop. But you didn't. You knew Harry was close to catching the golden snitch, plus Oliver would have your head if you did. So, you kept flying towards the hoops, but two Hufflepuff players cut in front of you, leaving no way to run. Your ears were ringing, voices were blending into each other, but you could distinguish your teammate Alicia almost screaming your name.

"Y\N! Here!"

In a matter of time, your arm was throwing the quaffle to Alicia without your will. Alicia caught the quaffle and sprinted towards the hoops, passing Fred, one of your best friends, on her way.

We don't mind a bit of rain.

You remembered Alicia's words from earlier, but this was the absolute worst. First, your opponent team got replaced with Hufflepuff, so you had to change all of your strategies because Hufflepuff's play was nowhere near Slytherin's, and now, you had to play under this awful rain, and you could hardly hear or see any of your teammates. In addition to that, all you could see was black and white because your soulmate sucked.

Living in this magical world had its perks, it did. You could channel your magic with your wand, from taming the wildest animals to levitating a cup; it was simply fantastic. But magic also brought disadvantages with itself. No wizard and witch, regardless of their blood status, could see any colors until they touched their soulmates, which was compelety ridiculous. What if you never met your soulmate? Were you never going to see any colors? And almost all of your classmates finding their soulmate and trying to describe the colors and terribly failing at it was nowhere near helpful to you.

Now, at the quidditch pitch, only thing you could do was to trust your instincts because you couldn't see any of your friend's faces at all. And you couldn't see their uniform's color, well, because your soulmate was determined on not showing up at all. And you certainly hated them for it.

"Harry!" You heard Oliver's crazy screaming. "Harry, behind you!"

You turned to see Harry. For a moment, he stood there, searching for the snitch. The moment he saw snitch, with a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broom handle and zoomed toward it. But Cedric was on his tail, following him higher and higher.

"C'mon, Harry," you muttered under your breath. You couldn't take your eyes away, but you were only watching Cedric Diggory. His hair sticking to his forehead, his face features stern, and his wet yellow, at least you assume, robes weighing him down. And in a matter of time, you saw Harry's broom was slowing, then finally stopping in the middle of the air, Cedric passing him and Harry slipping off of his broom, falling to the ground.

You couldn't even react until Harry was halfway through. Then you heard yourself yell. "Harry!" Now, you were flying towards him, but it was no use because he was already on the ground, lying unconscious.

After Cedric caught the snitch, he heard your cry, making him turn around. He saw you getting off your broom, stumbling in the mud of the pitch. Your hair now, free from the hair tie, was sticking to your face. The heavy rain was beating your face, causing you to frown. Cedric found himself following you. His feet touched the ground without even realizing it, and he saw Harry. Cedric stopped one step behind you, not knowing what to do, and then his hand found yours.

"Is he-"

You didn't even realize until you turned around and saw him standing with worry in his eyes, soaking wet, and in yellow robes. You could see the pale color of his skin, almost purple lips from the cold, and grey eyes. Your breath stuck in your throat. Your hand, the one that Cedric was still holding onto, was burning despite the rain and the cold. You almost didn't believe it. But then you heard Fred's voice even though you couldn't figure out what he was saying because your ears were ringing stronger than before, and then you saw your teammates red robes. Your head was spinning, you tried taking a step back, but it was almost impossible as if the ground was shaking.

You stumbled again as you did a minute ago when you were trying to walk in the mud, but this time you felt hands steadying you, making sure you were on your feet. Cedric's looks were burning through your head. It was so absurd. You didn't even know him.

There was no way he was your soulmate. He couldn't be.

You took a step back again, this time fully aware of where you stepped on. Turning your back to Cedric, you saw Madam Pomfrey carrying Harry to the hospital wing. You followed after them, hearing Dumbledore's yelling and Cedric's voice after. But you didn't stop or look back because if you did, you knew you wouldn't be able to walk again. This whole thing was such bullshit, honestly. A boy you knew nothing about but his name was your soulmate. And all of a sudden, your world was upside down because you could see colors now?

A week ago, hearing that he might have a crush on you sounded batshit crazy. But obviously, the universe got offended after all the shit you thought about soulmates and said, here you go, your soulmate.

As you were standing next to Harry's bed in the hospital wing, you could hear people talking around you, but you weren't listening to any of them. Your head still spinning, you thought about Cedric and his yellow robes. You felt hands around your shoulders, but they didn't burn through your skin as Cedric's did.

"Y\N, you're shaking," George said, still holding your shoulders and with worry in his eyes. "Would you like me to ask Madam Pomfrey for a blanket?"

You forced a smile. "No, it's alright. I guess I'm just in shock."

Harry's eyes opened. "Harry!" said Fred. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up.

"You fell off," said Fred, again. "Must have been - what - fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," you said, now realizing how shaky your voice was. Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

“But the match,” said Harry. “What happened? Are we doing a replay?” No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone. “We didn’t — lose?”

“Diggory got the Snitch,” said George. “Just after you fell. He didn’t realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it.”

“Where is Wood?” said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn’t there.

“Still in the showers,” said Fred. “We think he’s trying to drown himself.”

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly. “C’mon, Harry, you’ve never missed the Snitch before.”

“There had to be one time you didn’t get it,” said George. “It’s not over yet,” said Fred. “We lost by a hundred points.”

“Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…”

“Hufflepuff’ll have to lose by at least two hundred points,” said George. “But if they beat Ravenclaw…”

“No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…”

“It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way —”

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace. “We’ll come and see you later,” You told him. “Don’t beat yourself up Harry, you’re still the best Seeker we’ve ever had.” The team trooped out, trailing mud behind you. As everyone made their way to the Common Room, you were still standing in front of the hospital wing. You needed some time alone.

"Y\N, are you coming?" You heard Angelina. You looked at her, your eyes almost empty. "I think I'll check up on Oliver, see if he's alright."

"You don't look so good yourself, love. Wood will be alright, no need to worry. Let's get you to your room." George said, gently touching your elbow.

"No, I feel fine. I really should see Oliver, make sure he didn't really drown himself. I'll see you later."

George finally let you go; he realized he wasn't going to convince you. As you made your way to the changing rooms, the cold made you shiver inside your soaked clothes. But you couldn't find the strength to reach your wand and cast a spell. You were exhausted. Your arms were almost numb, and you had no idea how your legs still carried you.

A few steps before you reached the boys changing room: you heard footsteps behind you.

"Y\N!" You heard Cedric yelling. "Can I talk to you?"

You turned to him, realizing there was no point in acting as if you hadn't heard him call you. "Not the time, Diggory." You turned back again and took the rest of the steps, diving right into the room.

"Wait, that's boys changing-" Cedric yelled after you. "Y\N!"

He could swear to Merlin that he had never met anyone as stubborn as you. Were you not going to talk to him after what happened? Well, he understood that you might be in shock, but one way or another, you had to speak to him, right? After all, he was your soulmate. Not having any choice, he followed you into the room.

"Oliver!" You found him sitting under the shower, his clothes still on, while pulling his hair and mumbling to himself. You were sure that one of these days he was going to lose his mind, well, if he hadn't already. You heard Cedric following after you like a lost puppy, but you didn't have the time to deal with him. You reached to turn the shower off, getting yourself wetter than you already were.

Oliver was still pulling his hair. Now you could hear him better without water running. You sat in front of him, gently pulling his hands off of his hair. "Oliver, you need to calm down."

"We lost." He mumbled.

"It's not the end of the world, you know."

"It's the end of the world, Y\N! We lost!" Oliver yelled; his eyes were almost going to pop off. "Now, there's no way for us to win the cup!"

You held his hand tighter. "Don't be stupid now. Harry is still in the team, he’s alright. Everything'll be alright."

You could visibly see Oliver calming. "Yeah, we still have Harry."

"Also, there is no way that Hufflepuff is going to win against Ravenclaw. So, no need to have a tantrum." You turned to Cedric. "No offense."

"None taken," he said. He knew now wasn't the time to have a fight about which team was better. Cedric stood there for a while, not knowing what to do, and watched you calm Oliver. He could see you still shaking, but you didn't seem to care. Instead, you were helping your friend when you could use some help yourself. Cedric's chest tightened to the thought of you. It wasn't a lie that he had liked you for a while. He had seen you laughing with your friends, playing Quidditch, maybe throwing a fit at Alicia or Angelina because you lost a few points to Slytherin, but he had never seen you this vulnerable, shaking, in shock and scared.

"I better take him to his room." You said, feeling the urge to explain yourself or share something with Cedric. He helped you get Oliver to his feet. "I'll help you to the tower."

"It's alright. I know the way." You smiled. Why were you even smiling?

"You can't let people help you, can you?" said Cedric, not caring about what you had just said and still holding Oliver. His smile was beautiful. It was beautiful, and it made you mad because you didn't want to think that his smile was beautiful. And it made you angry because you wanted to believe the world was a good place and full of yellow.

The world was not a good place at all.

He was aware that you were tired and had probably a million thoughts in your head, bothering you. So, he didn't say anything. He had all the time in the world to talk to you, the rest of his life. He knew to take his time, especially with you. He wanted to ask you out, but he didn't. You probably would've said no anyway. He just took you in. Your face, your looks, how you tried to stay on your feet even though you were exhausted, how you walked, he took all of you in.

You stopped in front of the portrait of Sir Cadogan and told him the password. When Oliver took a step in you lingered back, turning to Cedric.

"I'll see you later, then. Maybe at breakfast?" Cedric asked, smiling.

"Maybe."

#cedric diggory #cedric x you #cedric diggory x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #cedric #robert pattinson #soulmates #soulmate au

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years

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Books I’ve Read in 2020

AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars!

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!

Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!

Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!

Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)

#I'll keep this list updated!#am reading #bookblr #IA talks #I've mostly read books I've really liked this year!#then again I rarely finish books I don't like

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theweasleywife · 4 years

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Her Little Secret

Part 2 of ‘His Little Secret’

(George Weasley x Gryffindor Reader)

Where a young Gryffindor girl learns she’s caught the attention of a certain red-headed Weasley.

Thank you guys for your patience! I’m planning for one more part of this little mini-series ◡̈ Hope you all enjoy part 2! 🍁🧡

To be quite honest, Y/N had no idea the spell she cast on the people around her. She kept quiet and to herself, not wanting to be the center of attention ever. She was a bit of an outcast in her own eyes; though, if you’d ask anyone else she appeared a lone wolf. She was independent and unintentionally intimidating- her kindness shook everyone to their very bones.

Y/N was shy, probably too much for her own good. Often she’d find herself observing the world around her rather than being a part of it. It was entertaining to her to observe the first years tripping over their robes rushing to class, the Whomping Willow swatting flies that landed upon its branches, and the silent scurrying of the trouble-seeking cat, Mrs. Norris.

Neither a Quidditch player or a member of the Slug Club, Professors often got on her back for her lack of involvement. Snape, in particular, always encouraged the young Gryffindor girl to put herself out of her comfort zone. He’d taken her under his wing, seeing how she felt alone and he related to her situation. The moody professor had been there for her from the beginning- encouraging her to keep up on her studies, speak up during class, and to maintain her own backbone through her years at Hogwarts.

“You mustn’t let others tell you what to do, Y/N,” Snape would say to her in his signature monotone voice, his finger wagging in front of her face. Often, he’d ask her to stay after class so he could mentor the young girl. “Your actions are up to you, however, I’d encourage you to learn a little more of the world outside of your books, girl. Life doesn’t stand still- even for the best of us.”

Finally, in her fourth year at Hogwarts, she seemed to have found her footing. Her classmates were shocked to see her hand held high in class so much and even more shocked when they’d hear her ramble about why “exotic seaweed is such a product of its environment, Professor Sprout, and it’s so beautiful how something so delicate underwater can be so vile on land.” After years of observing the world around her, she’d finally felt that she belonged to it. She had gained the courage to make new friends and often found herself discussing philosophy with Luna Lovegood and laughing with Seamus Finnegan as he lit his eyebrows aflame during a spell gone wrong.

For the first time in four years, the young Gryffindor felt surrounded by the love she exuded. Her kindness was no longer just a one way street; her fellow classmates began to smile at her in the hallway and invite her to Quidditch matches, often forcing her to paint her face red and gold in the name of “Gryffindor pride.” First-years and second-years would ask the beautiful girl for tips on how to get on Snape’s good side and even Professor McGonagall marveled at how Y/N had bloomed.

***

It was during a tutoring session in the library with Hermione Granger, a Second-Year and possibly the brightest witch Y/N had ever met, that she was told about how she had caught a certain red-headed Weasley’s eye.

“You know, Y/N, it has come to my attention that George Weasley is absolutely mad about you,” tutted Hermione with her chin in the air, the paper her quill hovered over long forgotten.

Y/N blushed and pushed her hair behind her ear, “Shut it, Hermione. Gossip won’t pass your OWLs for you, will it?”

“Oh, you’re blushing- I knew it! I just knew it! You’re mad for him, too, aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business!” Y/N said. “Though, he does look quite dashing today, doesn’t he?” Y/N gazed longingly over to where George sat with Fred and Angelina, not even three rows behind the two gossiping witches.

Y/N had harbored a crush on George Weasley since the second she stepped foot in the Great Hall for the first time. A bunch of bumbling baboons they were- the group of First Years making their way down the main aisle to take part in The Sorting. She had been so nervous. She didn’t care much for Slytherin and was indifferent towards Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. So badly, though, she wanted to be a part of Gryffindor- just as her mother and father were. She was nearly shaking the closer and closer her name got to being called. And finally, Minerva McGonnagall sang out the words she dreaded to hear, “Y/N Y/L/N, it is your time to be sorted. Please take a seat on the stool and place the Sorting Hat atop your head.”

From there it was a blur, she recalls the anxiety choking her as she sat facing the long tables in the Great Hall and how she had crossed her fingers so incredibly tightly in the hope that she would get her wish. What she remembers most vividly, though, is the reassuring smile of George Weasley. Having already been sorted into Gryffindor, he observed the trepidatious girl at the front of the Hall with his fingers crossed behind his back, hoping she might get the house he had been sorted into. Her nervousness made her look particularly pretty, he thought. Luckily for the pair, the Sorting Hat only took about ten seconds to decide her fate- Gryffindor. And so, on their first night at wizardry school, all of the new Gryffindor students sat with each other- their excitement boiling over in wicked smiles and booming laughter.

Y/N never forgot the small act of kindness the boy had shown her and, even though an outsider wouldn’t consider them friends, she always had a soft spot for the mischievous Weasley Twins. George had never paid much attention to her after their first night, though, and Y/N seriously wondered if Hermione knew what she was talking about.

“Well, you see Y/N, I feel it is my business as I am about to oblige you with some important information,” began the scheming girl. “Ron, George’s brother, told Harry who told Luna who told Cho who told me that George has liked you since we got back this year,” spilled Hermione without even taking a breath. “I believe it to be important that you know this since we all feel you and George are practically soulmates and, therefore, should fall madly in love with each other as soon as it is possible to do so.”

Taken aback by all the information that just spewed out of her student (and friend’s) mouth, Y/N sat in silent shock- her jaw dropped, a heavy blush on her cheeks, and a twinkle in her eyes. Hearing that George Weasley, the George Weasley, was keen on Y/N left her gobsmacked and speechless. She was overwhelmed and, as much as she wanted to jump out of her seat and scream happily from the top of her lungs, she found herself frozen.

“Hello- Earth to Y/N,” Hermione snapped her fingers in front of her completely still tutor. The astonished girl (whose face was as red as a beet) snapped back to reality.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I have to go,” she began shoving all of the miscellaneous papers scattered across the table into her books, picking them up to hold tightly against her chest. “Thank you for telling me, by the way. I’ll see you at the game tonight, right?”

Hermione giggled at how flustered Y/N had become, “Yes, of course. Though, I’m not the only one you’ll be seeing during the game,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. Y/N rushed away from the library leaving behind one very content and calculated Hermione Granger.

***

Y/N felt quite badly for leaving poor Hermione in the middle of their study session, but she felt so overwhelmed she wanted to be alone. That’s why when she and Luna made their way to the Quidditch Pitch that night, Y/N made sure to keep her eye out for Hermione. She wanted to apologize for leaving (but also thank her for telling her about George). She’d spent the afternoon wondering if Hermione was fibbing or if the truth had gotten lost in the game of telephone. She came to the conclusion that Hermione wasn’t the kind of person to share information like that unless she was certain it was true.

Making their way up the soaring stands, shoving through the masses of excited students and professors alike, Luna and Y/N made themselves comfortable next to Hermione and her friends, Harry and Ron. Smiling at the trio, the biting wind had them all huddling together for warmth.

“So, Y/N,” started Ron, who was smiling cheesily. “You here to see anyone special? Reckon I’ve never seen you willingly come to a game of Quidditch,” laughed out the younger Weasley.

“Shut it, Ron, this isn’t a laughing matter,” Harry excused his best friend.

Hermione pitched in, “Quite right, Harry, it’s love.” Y/N rolled her eyes, ignoring the younger kids and turning towards the pitch. The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams had already flown their broomsticks up towards the sky and Y/N could faintly see Oliver Wood flailing his hands about as if to say, “I don’t know why we have to play if we already know Gryffindor will win.”

Lee Jordan’s voice could be heard as the game came to fruition, “And we’re off!”

It was an intense match- probably the most hot-blooded Hogwarts had ever seen the students compete. It was absolutely hectic on the field and yet, through all of the chaos, Y/N always seemed to find George Weasley.

***

As she lay in bed that night, she knew sleep wouldn’t dare take over her mind. Her thoughts were all over the place and rest was the last thing she wanted. If it was possible to do so, she wished that she could spend the rest of her life thinking about how handsome George was. He had everything that one could possibly ever want. With wicked humor and quick wit, he always kept everyone on their toes. The more Y/N thought about his wide shoulders, strong arms, and mischievous smile, the more she knew she was in trouble.

If what Hermione had told her ended up being true, she didn’t know how much more silence she could handle from him. She was tired of being the shy and quiet observer and more than anything yearned to gain the affections of her crush. She hadn’t known how to keep her little secret under wraps anymore and she knew that she couldn’t wait much longer for love. Snape was right- time didn’t stand still and Y/N was determined to make the best of it.

For now, though, she decided that this random boost of confidence would be best dealt with in the morning. As she lay resting, her mind drifting from dream to dream about the ginger jokester, she had no clue as to what the future held. But one thing was for certain.

She decided that night that he was the love of her life. He just didn’t know it yet.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #george weasley imagines #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter world #harry potter imagine #Draco Malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagines #George Weasley x y/n #Fred Weasley x y/n #weasley twins #weasley twins imagines

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brittledame · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, Mildly Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Scent Marking, Possessive Semi, Claiming, Mention of violence/gore, Alternate Universe, Fantasy AU, Wolf!Semi, Witch!Reader

Word Count: 9.1K

Summary: After Goshiki and Ushijima are thrown into an alternate universe after getting hit by a truck, they're thrown into a generation-old prophecy to defeat the Demon King that had been terrorizing the land. Joining the whirl-wind adventure, you face off the feared Wolf at a great disadvantage. Prepared to meet your fate in order to protect your team, you never anticipated him making a move on you and for it to end in you promising yourself to him.

Notes: Inspired by chapter 24 of Haikyuu-bu!! I started working on this in the middle of the 2nd installment to ‘Semi’s Blow Blow Up’ which I’m hoping to get out before the end of September. Also, I let Semi keep his ears and tail in this, please don’t send me to hell for that. Other than that, please enjoy!!

When Tsutomu and Ushijima ended up on top of a hill surrounded by acres of green rolling-hills, the younger honestly assumed the worst had happened. The bus had hit him and now he was dead in heaven. Of-course Ushijima would be there with him, he’s probably never made a misdeed in his life, meanwhile Tsutomu was slightly shocked he’d end up in heaven after spitefully cutting his older sister’s hair off when she teased his haircut when he was younger.

No, that can’t be right, he can't be in heaven. Everything felt too real. A breeze tousled his hair and he could smell the dirt under his scuffed runners. He couldn’t be dead, meaning that this place wasn’t heaven or purgatory, but someplace else. From the odd-looking trees sporting large purple leaves and expansive Elysian scenery, Tsutomu couldn’t shoot down the absurd idea that he was in an alternate dimension.

Patting himself down, he knew he was physically fine and felt his heart anxiously pounding away inside his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ushijima standing tall, giving the area around them a surveying glance before his olive eyes landed on his shaky form.

“Goshiki, are you alright?” His deep timbre did calm his frayed nerves, it was hard not to trust his dependable senpai.

Nodding his head, Tsutomu responds with number one question of the day: “Ushijima-senpai, where are we?”

He tried to conceal the fear in his tone, but it would seem that he failed miserably as Ushijima places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“That truck must have hit us quite a fair way away.” Ushijima states, looking nowhere near as panicked as one should in their situation.

Goshiki gives him bewildered look, gesturing to the land in front of them.

“You think we would be fine after getting hit by a truck?” Tsutomu didn’t try to hide his hysteria. “No matter what way you paint it, this place doesn’t look like anywhere in Miyagi!”

“But there’s Shirabu.” Ushijima points somewhere over Tsutomu’s shoulder.

Half scared that he’s going to turn around and it’s some eldritch terror standing behind him, he froze in place. Although Tsutomu knew Ushijima would never put him in danger, Ushijima had no sense of danger; case and point the ghost incident. Gathering his scattered courage, he turns around and is dumbfounded to find Shirabu indeed standing before him, albeit he was now dressed in unusual garments.

“Shirabu?” Tsutomu exclaims, half relived that at least someone with a brain not solely filled with volleyball would see the insanity of their situation.

“Shirabu? No, I am not a Shirabu, I am Elf.” Not-Shirabu responds while pulling his hood off to expose comically long ears. Tsutomu could feel his mind take a temporary holiday, leaving him half-cocked and not nearly prepared enough to deal with this shit.

“We’re in an actual alternate universe…”

A short trek later, Tsutomu found himself being hosted by Not-Shirabu, who was scarily similar to Shirabu - right down to his mannerisms. Tsutomu could’ve sworn that every time he asked a question about this world, Not-Shirabu fought down a grimace, but never failed to give him a short response. He was polite but was obvious about his distaste towards Tsutomu’s inherently curious nature.

“Shirabu, everyone will worry if we do not return to school soon.” Ushijima succinctly summarises their situation.

“It’s Elf,” Not-Shirabu says immediately. “You want to return to your world?”

At their nods, Not-Shirabu slumps in his chair with a hefty sigh.

“I’m afraid there’s an issue with that. I would love to get you back home, but an evil Demon King has taken over this land. I’m afraid to say that going home is out of the question.”

Tsutomu felt his heart sink at the words. They couldn’t return home? What were they going to do here for a living? They could farm, but Tsutomu is nowhere near well-read in that field compared to Ushijima. Even in this dire situation, Tsutomu was reluctant to admit defeat.

“A Demon King?” He queried, obviously fishing for information about this Demon King. Maybe there was a way to convince him to let them home?

“Yes.” Elf drily responded.

Tsutomu could feel his eye twitch at the Shirabu-like response. Even in an alternate universe, his senpai was a short and antagonistic towards Tsutomu.

Only when he was prompted by Ushijima’s nod, did he continue.

“He is a malicious being with the sole incentive is to spread misfortune across the land. It started with small mischievous deeds, such as cutting individual’s hair into odd styles.” Elf pauses here to raise a hand to his fringe and Tsutomu had to smother the laugh that could threaten his life. “Now he has moved onto terrorising villages and increasing tax prices to an unbelievable high.”

“That is no way to run a country.” Ushijima hums in disapproval.

Tsutomu clasped his hands over his head, already feeling a headache coming on. So we’re going to completely ignore that Shirabu’s weird ass fringe was the result of some Demon King that has apparently ravaged the land by hiking up tax prices? And why did this all sound like something Tendou-senpai would do? He felt latent hysteria rise to the surface again.

“I’m sorry that he got you too, Goshiki.” Elf says solemnly.

Head snapping up, Tsutomu felt outraged at the comment. He worked really hard for his fringe to be this straight. Tsutomu would swear up until his deathbed that bowl cuts were cool.

“Hey! My fringe is untouched by the Demon King. This was my choice!” Goshiki defended his hairstyle, patting at the dark strands, making sure there wasn’t any odd fly-aways.

“We can’t go home as long as the demon king reigns?” Ushijima interjects, effectively ending the argument before it started. Ushijima was all too used to being the only one to stop arguments between Goshiki and Shirabu, he knew all the warning signs.

“Yes.” Elf says with an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry. If only the summoning of the ‘Otherworldly Hero’ passed on from past generations had succeeded. They are the sole hope we have.”

A silence envelopes the room, heavy and suffocating.

Tsutomu knew that panicking would do nothing but waste valuable energy, but he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed at the insane situation they found themselves in. A niggling thought heaped more anxiety onto him when it raises a good point. What if they were able to go home, what happens if time passes differently here? A day here may be twelve years back home. What would he do if he went back home and all his friends were old, his parents dead and –

Elf startles Tsutomu out of his downward spiral by suddenly jerking back with a gasp, wide eyes focused on Ushijima’s left hand holding a spoon laden with soup. The sudden motion had caused a cup to fall and clatter loudly against the stone flooring, which went widely ignored as Elf raises a trembling finger pointed at the stoic brunette.

“You’re using the spoon with your left hand. Are you –!” He cuts himself off as he rushes over to Ushijima’s side, not quite believing his own eyes. “The Otherworldly Hero!”

Tsutomu could not point out a time he’s ever heard so much emotion poured into Shirabu’s tone, he was almost swept up into Elf’s zeal before his logic kicked back in.

It was that easy?! Tsutomu internally screamed. This was just getting ridiculous at this point, honestly.

After a singular trial of pulling a sword out of stone and Tsutomu embarrassing himself and losing Elf’s respect, they found themselves starting a quest. The fanboy within him was super excited that he was going on an actual quest, exactly like the ones in his RPG campaigns.

“Remind me why we need this witch again?” Tsutomu questions, much to Elf’s evident annoyance.

“We need her to get through the Mystical Woods. It's prowled by one of the Demon King’s acolytes.” Elf slides his eyes to give Tsutomu a warning look, not wanting to answer anymore questions.

Gulping at the intimidating look, Tsutomu waved away the twenty billion other questions that came to mind as they made their way towards a tall stone tower. Tsutomu wonders what the witch would look like. Would she be someone they know, or someone completely new?

At this point in the trip, he silently begging any listening deities that she’s friendly. Ushijima and Shirabu have never been the best talking companions in his world and this trip has highlighted to Tsutomu how much he’d taken Yamagata’s and Reon’s friendly conversations for granted.

The tower ahead of them slowly grew in size until Tsutomu estimated it stood at least 5 stories tall. Following in Elf’s shadow, they pause a few feet away from the base. Looking at the structure, Tsutomu was quick to notice that there was no door present. Maybe they were on the wrong side of the tower?

He was just about to voice this before Elf cups his mouth and proceeds to yell up at one of the open windows.

“Hey Witch, come down! I found the Otherworldly Hero!” He shouts, uncaring at the ruckus he was making.

Tsutomu winces at the volume, shocked at how loud Elf could get. Absent mindedly, he wonders if the Shirabu in his dimension could get that loud too. Looking back up at the window, the youngest saw a head peak out.

“What?!” A familiar voice yells back down. The head disappears out of sight before any of them could respond.

No even a moment later, a dark door appears on the once-blank wall before them. Opening, the door reveals a figure that Tsutomu never thought he’d see. He should've expected it, this situation was crazy enough as it was.

Walking out of the dark room, you come to stand out in the sunlight, confirming your identity. Tsutomu blushed when he noted your attire. You looked exactly how you did before their run, minus the dark blue dress that hugged your curves and loose hair. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he subtly glances to the side to catch Ushijima’s reaction to your appearance.

With his usual neutral expression, he exclaims your name with no more vigour than any other time he’s said it. Tsutomu put too much faith into Ushijima, he should have expected the lack of a reaction as well.

You give Ushijima an odd expression, looking at Elf to explain what was going on.

“Manager-chan?” Goshiki interrupted. Elf shot him a nasty look at the interruption and ended up sighing whilst rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“They've been calling me weird names all afternoon too. Just ignore the short Otherworlder.” Goshiki whines at his harsh words.

You pique an eyebrow at the bowl-cut boy. “So I look like someone you know from your world?”

“Yes,” Ushijima answered monotonously. “You look exactly like our team’s manager.”

You hum as you mull over his words. “Curious. So that would mean you're from a world that is directly parallel to ours, a completely different dimension with shared similarities.” Your tone picked in pace and excitement as you spoke, the end of your sentence becoming a smear to the males around you.

At their collective blank looks you made an odd hand gesture in the air. “Anyway… You found the Hero?” Giving Ushijima a curious look, you completely ignore Tsutomu’s existence.

It kind of hurt for one of his kindest senpai's to outright disregard his presence. Reminding himself of parallel universes, he had to actively tell himself that you weren’t technically you.

Wow, he really hated this alternative universe stuff.

“I’ve been told as such.” Ushijima supplies, not at all weirded out by you invading his personal space to prod at his biceps.

Turning on your heel, you make your way towards Elf and throw a casual arm around his shoulders. Not at all bothered by your antics, Elf stands there as you lean against him. Tsutomu knew in his world that you and Shirabu got along quite well, that must have translated into this universe as well.

“Why are you here instead of saving the lands now that you have the Hero at hand?” Your question is a legitimate one, one that Tsutomu would’ve asked if he wasn’t scared of Shirabu’s infamous back of the knee kicks. If Ushijima was supposedly strong enough to take on the Demon King, surely he'd be able to take on one simple lackey lurking in the woods they needed to cross.

“We’re here to recruit you. You’re the only one I know powerful enough to conceal us to get past the Demon King’s pet monsters.” He patiently explains.

“Aw and here I was thinking it was because you missed me. I missed you, y’know?” You teased. Truly, you did miss Elf and all the shenanigans the two of you would get into, but you would never pass up an opportunity to needle him.

Elf simply rolls his eyes at you and shrugs the arm off of his shoulder.

“I mean it. We need you to get through the Mystical Woods without being detected by Wolf.” You frown at Elf’s serious expression, the reality of the situation dawning upon you.

“You know I’m never going to turn down a quest with you, but his senses are ridiculously enhanced. It’ll take a lot out of me.” Running a hand through your hair, Tsutomu recognised it as your nervous tick. “I won’t be much help during the final battle.”

“Don’t worry about that. You can rely on me.” Ushijima simply states but the effect on you and Elf is immediate.

The Hero’s simple words eviscerated your reservations, the conviction in his tone was all you needed to hear. That paired with the large sacred sword still embedded in stone was all it took to convince you it wasn't a fool's mission.

Agreeing to join their party, you rush to grab your wand and some other resources to assist the party later on in the journey before setting off.

By the time you all stood before the ominous-looking trees of the Mystical Woods, the sun was starting to settle on the horizon, warning you that you had little to no time to make it through before night came along and the true battle began.

“Before we enter, I must tell you all that Wolf’s senses are second to none. He’ll hear a whisper, smell you an acre away, and could destroy you before you could blink.” Your warning only served to scare Goshiki. You rushed to complete your weak pep talk. “But, I’m here so it is very unlikely that he will catch us, much less even be in this neck of the woods.”

Your words did little to soothe the youngest, although he did put a brave face on. You had to stop yourself from cooing at how cute he looked with his chest puffed out and a serious expression adorning his young face.

“Hey, uh, what does this wolf look like? That way if we spot him we can seek some cover.” Goshiki suggests.

Impressed, you gave him an encouraging smile and ignored Elf snorting behind you.

“That’s a brilliant idea, good job Goshiki.” You praised, noticing the way his eyes lit up at it. “Wolf roams around in his human form as far as I’m aware of. He’s taller than Elf but shorter than Hero.”

Elf indignantly huffs at your comment, not all liking your unintentional poke at the sore topic.

“He has pale hair, it almost looks white sometimes. Oh, he also constantly has this really grumpy look on his face.” You continue to list off a series of characteristics that describes Semi to a tee. There was no doubt in Tsutomu’s and Ushijima’s mind about who Wolf was.

“That sounds like Semi.” Goshiki remarked once you finished.

Receiving blank looks from you and Elf, Tsutomu stumbled over his words as he tried to articulate his thoughts.

“Ah, well, the person you just described sounds exactly like my senpai back home called Semi.” Tsutomu let out a small chuckle as he’s hit with a funny nickname for his senpai.

“We’re going to avoid Semi-Wolf so that we can get to the castle, defeat the king and go home, right?” Tsutomu smoothly recovers.

You laugh at the odd nickname Goshiki coined.

“Semi-Wolf you say? I quite like that.” You raise your hand to cover your grin, very amused at how much the ever-serious Wolf would hate it.

Always forced to be the voice of reason, Elf clapped his hands to refocus everyone’s attention.

“We can’t lose focus now. Once we enter these trees we can’t afford to be found by Wolf, even with Witch and Hero on our side, it would be a tiresome battle if he spots us.” His grave tone quickly sobered up the party.

Taking a deep breath, you withdraw your wand, starting to draw out an intricate rune in the air. A familiar tingling sensation overtakes your body as magic begins to flow from the earth up into your fingers and into the wand.

Finishing the last line, a glowing circle with swirling line and sharp strokes stood before you. Fastening the members behind you with a heavy look, you offered them one last chance to back out.

“Are you all ready?”

All three nod back at you, already having steeled themselves whilst you prepared the rune. Turning back to the rune, you finished the casting and walked through it with the three males hot on your tracks. It evaporated as soon as you stepped through it, effectively masking your scents and dampening all sounds. Even Ushijima could sense the tangible weight of the magic casted over his body.

The woods were exactly as you remembered it from when you were a child and wasn’t claimed by the fearsome Wolf. The trees looked the same with rough and peeling bark, along with the ground looking as damp and spongy as the days you ran through it barefooted and free-spirited.

While you didn’t explicitly state that they couldn’t talk, you were secretly glad that they didn’t. It would’ve made your life much more difficult to funnel more energy into the rune to mask them, it was already bad enough that your couldn't completely conceal everyone. Your combined efforts of creeping between the threes on light feet was counteracted by Ushijima nicking every second tree with the sword's sharp blade, creating a trail of bark.

Eyes and ears stayed vigilant even as you noticed a landmark for the half-way point through the forest. You paused at the large outcropping of rocks resembling a sleeping lady and mouth at them that it you were half-way there. Elf and Goshiki looked relieved whilst Ushijima sported the same bland look.

You were tempted to suggest a short rest before continuing through the woods, where Semi-Wolf commonly prowled. The words died on your tongue as you noticed an abnormally thick fog rapidly approach your group. Not even a blink later and the fog had consumed all visibility below the waist.

You’ve spent your whole life surrounded by magic, you knew that this fog came from an unnatural origin. You had hoped that the fog would stay at that height but those were quickly dashed when you saw it slowly creep up your body. It wouldn’t be long before your entire vision was obscured.

This was not good, not good at all.

Whirling around, you went to grab at your team’s clothing to anchor them to you. As your hands cut throw empty air, your fear doubled. You doubted that they abandoned you, it was likely the doing of the magical woods. While you loved to experiment and witness all types of magic, always keen to expand your knowledge, the magic in these woods never failed to unnerve you even as a young child.

Not only was there a predator out here, the woods were also working against you.

Considering your options, you concluded that you were rapidly running out of choices.

Calling out their names was objectively a stupid choice, but it was the best thing you could do with breaking the fragile magic coating them. It was almost a form a self-sacrifice. If you drew enough attention to yourself, they would hopefully find their way to you - or at least something would.

A few tense moments go by, each call answered with dead silence. Not even the insects and birds dared to make a sound.

Casting a tracking spell was completely off the table. Not only was the fog thick enough that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, it would shatter the meagre concealing magic coating them. At least it was something to protect them, it was much better then leaving them completely defenceless.

“Shit.” You hissed. Worriedly, you eye the magical fog that was becoming more oppressive, feeling like a physical weight pressing down on you.

“I didn’t know good witches like yourself cursed. So unladylike.” A deep rumbling voice sounded right next to your ear. It was close enough to for warm breath to caress your cold skin. Your skin immediately breaks into goose bumps.

Freezing, your mind descends into chaos as it crowds with worrying thoughts. The most prominent one pointed out the fact that Wolf was able to get dangerously close to you without your notice, magical fog aside. There was no doubt about who he was, there was no other that claimed the woods like he has.

You whirl around, trying to find the voice’s owner, full well knowing of whom you were seeking out. Fear coiled inside of your gut, trying it’s hardest to paralyse your muscles and haze your mind over in fear at the thought of facing Wolf alone at a disadvantage.

“You speak as if you’re a gentleman yourself, Semi-Wolf. You don’t have much room to condone my language when you have the mouth of a foul-tempered troll.” You rebuked, falsifying the confidence in your tone. Showing an ounce of trepidation in front of him would be deadly.

Eyes frantically flitting about, attempting to catch a glimpse of a shadow or anything that would reveal his whereabouts. Your eyes were met with nothing but swirling white, not a single sign as to where he could be. This whole situation had you on edge.

He chuckles at your weak jab. The sound reverberated off of the trees and felt like it came from all around you, only serving to further confuse you about his whereabouts.

While every drop of mana was precious, you thought it prudent to at least being able to see your enemy. It should at least put you on equal footing with him. Flicking your wand, you cast a spell to temporarily filter out the fog around you, creating a clear bubble around you and the menacing man before you.

Even though he looked just as you had described to your otherworldly companions, viewing Wolf not even two meters away from one’s self was always a different experience. The first feature that caught your attention was his dark eyes, iris colour similar to richly stained wood, secondly was his elongated nails coming to a fatal point. Claws sharp enough to shear through flesh with ease were paired with pointed canines exposed by his predatory smile.

Your heart speeds up as you recognised how doomed you were, armed only with your wand, half of your mana and a pouch of useless herbs. The fluffy white dark-tipped ears sitting atop his head flick at the thundering sound of your palpable fear. Wolf's smile widened at that, tail swishing side-to-side in glee. This was going to be all too easy for him.

“Found you Semi-Wolf” Your white-knuckled grip around your wand belied your light tone.

“Don’t call me that.” He growls out, eyes narrowing at you. He was not impressed at your impertinence.

You would normally roll your eyes at the needless display of anger, but you couldn’t afford to take your eyes off of his intimidating figure slowly walking around you.

“What are you doing in my territory,” he continues. You knew he didn't care about your answer, it was more so to draw this out.

Fine, you’d bite.

“We’re on a quest, so please kindly don’t interfere.” He pauses to the left of you, now not even an arms-length away from you. Your body instinctively tenses at this, acutely aware that he could take you out faster than you could cast at this distance.

“I can’t let my reputation suffer just because you asked politely to cross through. There’s consequences to encroaching my land without permission.” His tone darkens at the end of his sentence, acting as if you personally offended him by doing so.

You knew he wouldn’t let you go so easily but a girl could always dream, right?

Lowering your centre of gravity, you subtly shift your body into a fighting stance and forcibly relax your wrist. A stiff wrist would hinder casting and it would frankly be embarrassing to be taken down so quickly, regardless of Wolf being the second toughest opponent controlled by the Demon King.

His keen eyes catch onto your slight movements and he moves in kind. It appears that you’re confident enough to take him on directly off the bat and not even attempt to run away. Whether this choice was misguided or made by underestimating him, Wolf was going to make you rued the day you thought you stood a chance against him.

Not wanting to wait for him to make the first move, you immediately cast a paralysing spell. The spell missed widely as he simultaneously lunged towards you at that very moment. This back and forth of casting and dodging goes on for a while and it wasn't long before you could physically feel your mana decrease and muscles grow tired. Maybe locking yourself in a tower for months on end didn’t have the best effect on your stamina.

Knowing you didn’t have a chance in hell against him while half-powered thanks to the prior masking spell, you could do nothing but futilely dodge him and cast the occasional fire ball his way. In the back of your mind, you spared a thought to the rest of the party and prayed to the deities that they were making their way out of the woods.

An exposed root caught your foot as you danced out of reach from a swipe of his deadly claws. Time seemed to slow down as your world tilted and the ground rose up to catch your body. Catching yourself on unsteady hands, you hiss as the rough ground scrapes your palms and knees enough to bleed.

Seizing the win, Wolf walks over to your stationary form, savouring the smell of your blood on the air. It smelt sweet, Wolf licked his lips and nudged you onto your back with his foot. He briefly wondered if you would taste just as sweet. You had put up a good fight and Wolf always loved a good challenge.

Semi-Wolf cages your body with his own, his large hands trapping yours above your head, with his legs pinning yours down. At this point, you had resigned yourself to your fate. You never really thought that you’d die like this, a hot guy murdering you was always a bonus you supposed.

Bringing his face towards yours, your breath falters when his lips floats above yours. Eyes wide, you noticed the hunger in his dark eyes, a hunger that you knew yourself all too intimately. Seeing his lips tilt into a dangerous smirk, your eyes lock onto them much to Wolf’s evident amusement. He uses the opportunity of your diverted attention to closely check you out, his eyes sweeping down your form.

He vastly appreciates the simple dark gown you wore. The dress exposed enough cleavage without becoming a disaster and had a leg slit that exposed a fair amount of soft-looking skin. Wetting his lips at the delicious sight you made underneath him, Wolf knows his evaluating looks were far from one sided, he could feel your gaze burn into his skin in kind.

Making eye contact with you, he decided he was going to indulge himself just this once. After weeks of dealing with Demon King’s shenanigans and then having to come back and patrol the woods with nothing in terms of companionship, he was admittedly lonely. He also harboured a lot of frustration and pent-up sexual desires and then there you were, waltzing on in with a form-fitting dress and smelling of ripened strawberries.

Wolf leans down and brings his mouth to your neck. All that filled your mind was the different but all equally as gruesome ideas of how he could kill you in this position. Him tearing out your throat was at the forefront of your mind.

Wolf licks a hot stripe up your throat, tasting your rabbit-like heartbeat. It was almost cute how much he scared you. He was almost tempted to assure you he can be gentle if he’s in the mood for it. From how you reacted to his each and every touch, he knew his self-restraint would truly be tested tonight. He did so love a sensitive lover.

“What are you going to do to me?” Your voice shakes and serves to further spur him on. Temptingly, he brushes his lips against yours, as light as a feather and no where near the pressure you now craved.

This close up you could see the flecks of near obsidian accentuating his mahogany brown irises that swirled with unspoken promises of what he was planning to do to you tonight. He doesn’t answer, choosing to stare instead.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Pushing him probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Then again, you never would have gotten into adventuring if you had all your wits about you.

Again, silence meets your ears as he rolls his eyes at you in response, much to your shock. The action was unexpected, completely out of character for him, judging from the gossip you’ve overheard from the townspeople.

“I’ve got a much better use for that cute little mouth of yours then asking pointless questions.” He purrs into your ear.

You very nearly swallowed your tongue, eyes wide in disbelief. Your mind was still spinning at the sudden turn the night has taken. You were ready to fight for your life, not get pinned down and get propositioned. His actions spoke leagues, he didn’t leave any room for misinterpretation of what he desired from you. As much as that thought should’ve scared you, a thrill of anticipation sparked down your spine.

Noticing your receptiveness, Wolf planned to test how far he could push you before you pulled back. Testing the waters, he bridges the short gap between your mouths and kisses you. To his amusement, you froze for half a breath before reciprocating, soft lips moving skillfully against his.

Deepening the kiss, he doesn’t wait for permission to lick into your mouth, earning him a gasp. You never really spared any thought to him before this day other than reluctant acknowledgement of his strength, that even armed with an arsenal of spells you’d still struggle to defeat him. Never in a hundred years would you think that he was a good kisser and yet here he was doing his best to thoroughly prove you wrong.

Warmth spread through your body as you tried to pay him in kind, but he was intent on dominating the kiss in every way. Your mind wondered over the thought of him dominating you in another way and your heart gave a concerning lurch inside our chest.

Semi-Wolf ends up breaking the kiss to chuckle down at you after a moan escaped. Embarrassed flush tinging your cheeks pink, you use the break to catch the breath he stole from your lungs.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Semi-Wolf.” You whisper against his lips.

“How much more direct do I have to be with you, little witch? Do you want me to say that I want to fuck that cheeky mouth of yours until you cry?” Heart palpitating, your eyes zero in on him wetting his lips, wondering what else his tongue could do. “Or maybe that I’m horny enough to fuck you regardless of your incessant questioning.”

This time you shiver at the way his deep voice seemed elicit lust to cloud your mind. Horny yourself from countless days of self-imposed isolation in your pursuit of knowledge after your last disastrous quest with Elf, you weren’t exactly in the right mind-frame to deny him.

At the same time though, who said you would make it easy for him?

“Even the big bad Wolf gets lonely guarding the creepy woods.” You goad him, eager to get a rise from him.

Rising to the obvious bait, his grip tighten around your wrists enough to hurt. Meeting his scowl with a jovial expression, you inwardly crowed at how easy it was to rile him up.

“You’d be so much cuter if you didn’t open your mouth. Don’t worry, I’ll fix that for you.” He promises darkly. His thumb presses into your bottom lip and urges you to open your mouth.

You do deny yourself the desire to bite down on his thumb, not wanting to truly make him mad. You just wanted him mad enough to take you without holding back.

Releasing your other wrist, he makes quick work of undoing his pants. Enjoying the view, your tongue licked his thumb, drawing his attention for all of a second before he presses his thumb on top of your tongue. You whine around the intrusion, earning an unimpressed look from him as he reveals his sizable length.

He nearly laughs when he hear you audibly gulp as he shucks down his pants one-handed. His slowly filling dick swelled even more at your groan from just witnessing his length. Even at half-mast he was long and girthy enough for you to wonder if he was going to fit in you.

Not liking the way your attention drifted inwards, Wolf gripped himself and gave a few tugs. To both your fascination and horror, you watched as his cock was stroked into full hardness. At this, you swore to yourself to make it fit, no matter what. There was no way you were going to pass up this once in a life-time opportunity.

Wolf considers the position you were both in and decided that it wouldn’t do. Releasing his cock and removing his thumb from your mouth, he grabs you by the shoulders and forcibly moves you into a new position. You relished the way he manhandled you, you elect to make it easy on him and be pliable for him.

Pushing a hand through his wild hair, he looks over at your new placement. Dress strewn around your legs, the side slit now exposing an indecent amount of flesh as you laid out beside him. Once again grasping your shoulder, he moves your upper body to lean over his spread legs, bringing your face towards his rigid length.

You didn’t fight him as he brought your mouth towards his cock, nor did you wait for permission to start. Wrapping your mouth around the leaking tip, you gave a slight suck before trying to take more of him in all while swirling your tongue around him. His hand moves up into your hair as you slowly make your way down his shaft, cute little mouth already stretched wide.

About half-way down your jaw was starting to get sore from how wide you had to keep your mouth from grazing your teeth harshly against him. You weren’t ready to admit defeat yet, you still hadn’t even taken him fully yet. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to take the rest of his cock in all the way, sore throat be damned. You gagged at the feeling of him being shoved down your throat, mouth impossibly full as his hips jolt up and keep himself in as you started to pull back.

A loud groan rumbles through the air, rewarding your efforts. His fingers tighten in your hair, locking your head in place. You fight against his grip and win, coming up with a gasp and a thick strand of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. Giving him a withering glare, you lick up his shaft once, twice, before engulfing him yet again. This was for your benefit, hearing him growl as you sucked him off was just a benefit.

He watched on with delight as you forced yourself to choke on his cock, evidently he was too large for you to handle. Not wanting you to do all the work, he started to slowly roll his hips up and took control of your pace by moving you up and down his member by his grip on your hair.

Unable to take back control, you could do nothing but to let him guide you as he fucks into your mouth. This turned you on incredibly, feeling yourself become wet as he pants and groans into the still air. Distantly, you could hear his tail thump against the ground.

While fucking your willing mouth, he’s struck with a brilliant idea. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he’s now able to feel himself being deepthroated. A rush of blood left him light-headed, absolutely loving the fact that he can feel himself when he shoves his cock even further down your throat, not caring that at how you dug your nails into his hips. Your whines about him taking over only served to arouse him further, feeling the vibrations travel along his length.

He feels himself come close as you swallow around him, tongue rubbing sinuously against all the right spots. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he peaked. While he did have a fast recovery time, he didn’t want to waste a moment of not being buried inside of you. Already the smell your arousal perfumed the air, causing his dick to jump in your mouth at the sudden influx of blood rushing southward. The need to be inside of you trumped the joy he felt from you sucking him off.

Tearing you off of his dick with a slick'pop', you were completely blindsided as he throws you against the ground. His hand grasped your thigh, drawing it up as his other shears the thin fabric of your dress off. Now sitting above mid-thigh, you silently despaired about the destruction of your favourite dress. Uncaring, Wolf impatiently batted the rest of the flowy fabric out of his way, not sparing you a second look at you as he shreds your panties and runs a knuckle down your wet folds.

“I’ve barely touched you and yet you’re this wet,” he muses.

Careful of his nails, he gathers up your liquid arousal on his finger and brings it up to his mouth, tasting you. You clench down on nothing as he closes his eyes to savour your taste with a moan. If he drew this out any longer, you were going to have a spontaneous heart attack.

Squirming under him, you made impatient sound. It didn’t go ignored, grinning down at you, he brings bringing his finger back down to teasingly caress your folds, touches much too light for your taste.

“Aren’t you an impatient little thing,” Semi-Wolf drawled as brushes a knuckle against your hole, pausing over it and slightly dipping in.

A frustrate groan left your lips, tilting your hips up to chase his teasing strokes.

“Please.” You begged as he started again with the feather-light strokes.

Normally you would rather retch than beg for cock, However there was always an exception. That exception being Semi-Wolf's cock. It appeared to be the correct thing to do as his eyes flashed with something sinful, a wild look on his face.

“Since you asked so nicely…” He moves down your body, coming to a stop at the apex of your thighs.

Face so close to your core, his mouth started salivating from how good you smelt. Blowing onto your pussy, he elicits a cute squeal and ended up having to pin your legs down to keep you from kneeing him in the head.

He delivers a long lick between your wet folds and swallows your taste as he prods at your entrance. Judging he had enough fun, he delved straight in. Clawing at the soft ground under you, your chest heaved as his tongue thrus in, swirled around, rubbed against your walls and pulled out. It wasn't long before he had you incoherently begging for something, anything, yet he continued in this fashion until he had your hands tugging at his hair, careful of his furry ears, and writhing on his tongue.

Eating you out like a man starved, he didn’t stop until he felt your thighs tense around his head, signalling how close he brought you with just his tongue. He’d like to think that he wasn’t a cruel man but the nasty look you gave when he pulled away had him second guessing himself.

You were more than ready at this point. Ready to start cursing at him if he didn’t fuck you right now, you opened you mouth for him beat you to the chase. Heaving himself upwards, he presses his chest against yours, inadvertently bringing his hips close enough for his dick to slap against your drenched folds.

Gripping himself, he wordlessly slicks up his length by rubbing it through your juices. Lining up with you entrance, he barely presses in and your hands fly up to dig into his arms. Not minding the bite of pain, Wolf didn’t stop you from digging in your nails as he slowly slid in.

Reminding yourself to breath, you took shallow breaths and forcibly relaxed your muscles to help take him in, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that paired with his girth.

Shoving his engorged cock into your wet hole, he didn’t hesitate to slide down to the root regardless of how tight you were. Tears rise to your eyes unbidden as he pushes his way into you, feeling like his cock alone could split you in half. Muttering a half-assed incantation under your breath, you banished the edge of pain away, unmasking the pleasure at being so completely filled.

His thick cock that filled every space inside of you so well, that you started to believe he was made for you. The same thought went through his mind as he begins to mindlessly pound away into you, loving the way your wet hole takes him so well and tightens perfectly around him every time.

The angle he pummelled into at had you seeing stars. You raise your hips to meet his a few times before he grabs the back of your right knee with one hand, pinning your leg up against your chest. A wrecked moan rattles you as the pose opens you up more, changing the angle and allowing him to hit even deeper inside of you, now experiencing fireworks.

“You like that, huh?” He growls roughly.

You couldn’t spare the breath to answer him back with him fucking the life out of you, instead you nodded helplessly.

A pleased noise rumbled through his chest. You were such a supple little thing, taking every inch of him like you needed it, no matter the pain it initially caused you. Such things stroked his ego, paired with the wrecked expression on your face and the fluttering of your walls around his cock, he was intrigued by you. Being impressed and interested in someone with his possessive nature was never a good combination, and he couldn’t stop himself from becoming enamoured with you while fucking you into the ground.

He litters your neck and chest with kisses, bruises, and bites that you knew would take a while to heal and vanish. The bastard was infamously territorial, you should’ve known that it would also translate into sex as well. Having half the mind to slap him for marking up, you couldn’t deny the way your heart leaped and pussy clenched around him with every rough suck he delivered to your soft skin.

He couldn’t let you go now he’s had a taste of you. He knew you would be perfect in tempering him, weathering his moods and give yourself fully to him like were right now. You already proved yourself worthy by not backing down or running away. Pupils blown wide, possessive thoughts consume his mind, devising different ways he could make you his. From the way you thrashed under him, shaky moans joining the symphony of your bodies colliding together, he conjured a way he could make you his.

Feeling him pull out was nothing of concern to your bliss-filled mind. It was when he didn’t slide back in that raised alarm. Opening your eyes, you blinked away tears from your sight to make out his proud-looking expression. Whining, you raise your hips up to force his tip to slide in further. Semi-Wolf denies you this by pulling his hips back further, removing his cock all together.

“Do you want me to continue fucking your greedy hole?” He says, eyes piercing through your soul.

Showing your frustration, you glare up at him and dig your nails into his arm, making him wince at the strong grip.

“Yes.” You hissed through clenched teeth.

He considers your answer for a short moment before moving his dick again. This time though, he merely sits it between your slick folds and rolls his hips. The position was perfect for his cock to graze against your clit, a moan slipped out before you could suppress it.

“What would you do for it?” He questions, rolling his hips again, putting more force behind it this time.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, the constant stream of stimuli from him rubbing against your sensitive bundle was overwhelming. Seeing that you weren’t listening to him, he stopped his motions and watched as frustrated tears gather in your eyes as he ripped away your building orgasm.

“I said, what will you do for it?” He leans down to your ear, teeth gently tugging at your earlobe.

Existence now solely staked on you reaching your peak, the words rushed out of you without a second thought.

“Anything.”

He smiles at that, a shudder going through your body at the beautiful sight. He flashes his canines at you, happy that you wouldn’t need any convincing.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He presses your mouths together in a relatively chaste kiss. Confused, you kissed him back with vigour and chased his lips when he drew back. “How about becoming mine?”

A flash of heat sears through your body at his question. Mind going in a hundred different directions, it gets thrown around into different scenarios. First you were making out, fucking and now he was asking you to be his? You literally just met the guy. While yes sex with him so far has been immaculate, you couldn’t just swear yourself to him at the drop of hat.

All these thoughts should’ve been enough to deter you, to encourage you to finish yourself off and walk away. Instead, the horny part of you overrode all common sense. A strong, attractive partner by your side with a drool-worthy dick? You didn't need anything more.

Hands cupping his cheeks, you graze your thumb over his bottom lip and pull him closer.

“Yes. Now fuck me before I finish myself off.” His eyes flash at your threat, promising you hell for that.

Sealing your fate, you fasten your mouth over his and slip your tongue into his mouth as he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance and thrusts back in like he never stopped.

Pace faster than before, you arched you back as his cock presses into you, feeling impossibly deep. Unforgiving now in his thrusts, he didn’t hesitate to make himself a place inside of you, needing you to feel him even when he was finished.

It felt like your veins were filled with molten magma as he repeatedly hit all your sweet spots without even trying. All of your arousal and pleasure amassed into a tightly coiled ball that sat low in your gut and grew with every growl and thrust he gave. This time you protected it with all your might, you’d most definitely curse him if he pulled the same stunt twice.

Wolf buried his head into the crook of your neck, panting into your skin as he pistons himself in and out of you, chasing his own orgasm to no end in sight. Scraping his canines along the column of your throat, you shudder around his cock and tantalisingly squeeze him. Rewarding how sensitive you were, he attaches his mouth to you and buries his fangs into your flesh.

It felt like a supernova went off of inside of you the very moment his teeth pierced your flesh, flinging your head back fast enough that you almost knock yourself out as Wolf fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

His hips don’t falter their pistoning as you tighten up immensely, feeling like a second skin from the way you gripped at him. Blood filling his mouth, he greedily swallowed every drop of the sweet substance, not at all surprised that it tasted just as sweet as the strawberries you smelt like.

With one last thrust, he pulls out and gives himself three rough tugs before he finally spilled all over your thighs. He very nearly purrs at how he solidified his claim over you, his scent seeping into your skin strong enough for any non-human person with a decent nose would know exactly who you belonged to.

“Will you grant us passage through your woods now?” You asked, sarcastic words shattering the silent atmosphere that enveloped your bodies as you both recovered.

“Maybe. Depends what you’re scheming.” He glances over at you from the corner of his eye, not bothering to turn over.

“We’re going to take down the Demon King.” Semi-Wolf chokes on mid-air and whirls around to face you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Are you serious? If you had started with that, I would’ve walked you guys through and joined the fight.” You bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. This whole time Semi-Wolf wasn’t the dangerous servant of evil you had him pegged for, instead he was begrudgingly guarding these woods. He must being doing it for something, albeit you didn't know what for.

“What did he do to warrant your anger at him.” You were blatantly curious. It wasn’t often that you were wrong in how you perceived someone, plus it was interesting to catch a glimpse into the life of someone who was close to the maleficent Demon King.

“He said my wardrobe was hideous.” Wolf grumbles under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.” You grin at him while cupping your ear and leaning in close. You had heard him perfectly fine, it was just fun to see this side of him.

Teasing him was much too fun, you were already getting comfortable around him. Who could’ve guessed he would be all soft on the inside? Elf was going to get a kick out hearing that. Whether he’ll believe you or not is entirely another story.

Annoyed, Wolf bats you away as you laughed at the pick blush betraying his stern look.

“Doesn’t matter. There’s no way you could lose with me helping.” A different, more gentle sort of warmth fills you at his claim, no matter how self-assured it may come across to some.

No longer wishing to antagonise him further, you simply hum in response. Not giving it a second thought, you slip your hand into his.

“Ignoring the fact that you destroyed my favourite dress,” Wolf had the common decency to look ashamed, withering under your harsh glare. “Were you serious when you asked –”

“Yes, I was serious.” He cuts you off. A nervous look replaces his serious one, scratching at the back of his head as he contemplated his next words. “Look, it wasn’t a smart move to do that to you in the middle of… yeah. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of you being someone else's. It's weird how connected I felt with you in that moment."

Looking away from the tree he was studying to avoid your gaze he was met with your stunned face painted a soft pink.

“You’re an idiot.” You say bluntly. Okay, he was definitely not the big monster you were led to believe. You almost felt like a fool for being so scared of him at the start.

“Hey!” He indignantly shouts, squeezing your hand as punishment for your insult.

“I’m joking, I swear it. It was a dick move but I forgive you.” Suddenly feeling shy, you look away from his intense eyes, not liking the way it felt like he could read your very soul. If Elf were here he’d probably scoff at you being demure after -

“Crap, my party! They probably think I’m dead.” You hurriedly get up and brush off the debris from your now short dress. A slight breeze picked up, causing you to shiver at the weird sensation of it caressing your bare legs and reminding you of the cum drying uncomfortably on your skin.

Ripping a piece of your sleeve off, you make quick work of cleaning yourself off as Wolf tugs on his pants. Seeing the way he eyes your legs, you narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head when he feigns an innocent look.

Giving the small glade one last look over, you both set off into the now clear woods. It took what seemed like a short eternity before you broke the tree line of the other side. On the other side, you find a pacing Goshiki, a bored-looking Elf and a peacefully dozing Ushijima.

Looking over at your sudden appearance, it took one sweep of Elf’s perceptive eyes to know what exactly had went down during your disappearance. You blush as he raises an unimpressed brow at you, ignoring Semi-Wolf’s presence by your side out of pure spite.

It took a bit to convince them that he was here to help and help he did. Armed with the scarily one-minded Hero and one pissed of Semi-Wolf, the crimson-haired Demon King didn’t stand a chance against them.

#semi x reader #semi eita x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #semi eita #shiratorizawa #haikyuu-bu!!#alternate universe - fantasy #alternate universe #he has ears and a tail and I was considering I may be furry for writing this rip #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!!#reader-insert #I'm probably going to fanfic author hell for writing this

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mostlikelyshutup · 3 years

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thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

#harry potter #sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #hermione granger #ron weasley #k mumbles #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #hagrid #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #long post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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llendrinall · 4 years

Note

Imagine. 1/2 The war has ended & the Wizengamot are currently holding court & reviewing Dumbledore's memories that he saved. In the span of months they find many containing Death Eater spy Severus Snape, & Ministry spy Percy Weasley. With one dead & the other Missing the British wizarding world is thrown upside down as they review the Memories & realise just how much Percy Weasley was a Mastermind Schemer in saving the lives of many Muggle Borns, Goblins, Half-Blood's and Blood Traitors.

2/2 The Wizarding world are looking for where war hero Percy Weasley is. Especially his family (In this story Percy saves Fred's life & then vanishes). They see that Percy Weasley had worked as an informant during his entire Ministry career, also being the one who thought out Dumbledore's death (Shocking the courthouse) "You're already dying Albus, why not have Severus strengthen his position with the Death Eaters by being your killer?" 'He used every situation to his advantage to end the war'

Ah, the reveal of the wronged hero, what a simple and satisfying trope. It gives us angst, the bitter taste of not being appreciated mixed with the sweet sauce of late recognition and regret.

But Percy doesn’t care about that or any other tropes because he is exhausted. Winning a war is a tiring job and he was being doing more than winning. So as soon as Voldemort keels over and dies, Percy checks that his family is alive (they all are, good job there, Percival) and he makes himself a portkey and goes away.

One wizard can’t make a portkey, you say? It takes at least four? Barty Crouch Jr had to imperius three other wizards to enchant the Goblet of Fire? And portkeys don’t work in Hogwarts under normal circumstances? Well, these are not normal circumstances, there was a battle and Percy has a lot of practice making portkeys, all right? A lot.

(There are less than twenty goblins in Britain right now and it is all Percy’s doing).

He goes to East Asia because Percy is vaguely aware that a single white man in need of enlightenment and self-discovery should go climb a mountain on Asia. Percy doesn’t climb any mountains, though, because he can never do things as he is supposed to. There must always be a twist. In this case, he gets food poisoning twice and spends over a month trying to learn how to play a plucked string instrument. He is harassed by a flock of geese and meets a talking dragon. He fails to realize that there are no accounts of talking dragons in history (at least the history badly learned and repeated in wizarding Britain). Dragons do not talk nor do they speak. Your brother works in a freaking dragon reserve, for Merlin’s sake, Percy. You should know this.

After that Percy goes to the Caribbean, because he feels that his stress-relief and self-discovery journey should also involve a stay in a tropical beach. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the experience because he is a red-head. Also, sand is annoying. He freckles all over, eats a lot of pork, learns to play the maracas, to the locals’ amusement, and leaves.

By the time Dumbledore’s memories are uncovered Percy has made his way to a Greek island. He dresses almost exclusively with a t-shirt tied around his waist like a loincloth and a pair of trainers. He also carries with him a bag made from a t-shirt like some sort of wild instagrammer. He carries all kind of knick-knacks in his bag that he uses to create himself a house at night, as if transfiguring a nutshell into a bed were a normal thing, Percy, you utter maniac.

From time to time he goes to a wizarding community and offers to do some chores or magic in exchange of goods. If a goblin woman sees him, she will give Percy a loaf of bread. He has no idea why they do that but it’s very good bread, so Percy is happy to take it. One time Percy met a male goblin and he gave Percy some salt, that he still carries with him. It is possible that for the last seven months Percy had been eating goblin bread and whatever fresh produce the Greek witches offer him in exchange of doing chores.

It is at this time that the Puddlemere United goes to Greece to do some pre-season training.

(This is something that football teams around Europe do. Go somewhere outside the country to train for a month or two in different conditions. The Manchester United often goes to Malaga, in Spain, for a warm-weather training. I don’t even like football, I don’t know why I know this.)

When Oliver Wood sees Percy Weasley standing around in little more than a loincloth he naturally assumes that he is having a hallucination, a combination of the relentless training under the hot and punishing sun, the hours spent fighting the wind (they don’t know what it is with the wind there, but it will try to kick you off the broom. They are all coming out of this with iron abs) and the constant stories in The Prophet about yet another plot Percival Weasley had conducted, saving a dozen lives.

“Percy?” Oliver asks, sweaty and thirsty and half mad from training.

“Oh, hi, Oliver!” Percy answers, and then, because Percy is simultaneously the cleverest and dumbest wizard alive, “oh shit”.

Percy has not been reading the news. He refuses to. He is on vacation, he is still tired and he has a white hair on his temple. Just the one hair, but Percy is twenty-two and far too young for white hair.

Oliver nods. He gets it. He is still telling the Weasley family that he has seen Percy and that he is not dead at all, only slightly insane. But he will wait until he is back in England. Oliver doesn’t know if all the things in the paper are true, but even if Percy has only rescued one thousand five hundred goblins instead of the fifteen thousand the papers claim, he is still entitled to a nice quiet vacation in which clothes are optional.

Did Percy Weasley stop a goblin genocide in his free time? Does he not realize it? How dumb is this boy?

Come September the owls start to arrive. Letters from the Ministry, from the papers, from his family. Percy watches the owl fly around and doesn’t allow himself to be found. He does read Oliver’s letters and even answers explaining that no, his family is not heart-broken. They were heart-broken five years ago when Percy very publicly acted like an asshole. They got used to it, so there is no need for this new sentimentality now that Percy is on vacation.

Percy might be acting a bit like an asshole now, but he has very complicated and ugly feelings over his family and he would rather not think about them. Mostly, he is irked by the fact that they were so quick to follow Dumbledore’s lead. Perhaps because Percy never worked for Dumbledore, he worked with Dumbledore and had the distinct pleasure of pointing to his face, on multiple occasions, what a sly bastard he was. He has little respect for people who never confronted Dumbledore.

(So basically Percy only respects Aberforth Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall).

Also, Percy always did what he was supposed to: he washed his hands, minded his siblings, got good grades and he yet he was not the favourite son. This is all subconscious, of course, but he resents it.

Oliver keeps writing so Percy keeps writing back.

“Did you actually side-apparate a family with twelve members?” writes Oliver.

“I have no idea.” Percy writes back. “Wait, do you mean the Johnsons? How are they?”

“They are going to give you an Order of Merlin, 1st Class”.

“Surely they realise I don’t want one.”

“I think it is evident they realise nothing, Percy.”

By October it’s getting cold and Percy finds that he doesn’t particularly care about wearing clothes, so he is getting ready to portkey himself to Argentina when Ginny arrives. She has such a driven and purposeful look around her that Percy assumes that she must be in the middle of a very important quest, so he hangs back and follows her as she treks all over the island and vanishes a thousand year old monster. It doesn’t occur to Percy that her quest is finding him and that the monster was merely an unfortunate bystander.

Eventually he reveals himself to Ginny because she is screaming incoherently at the sky and Percy thinks that she might be suffering hypoxia and dehydration. Ginny throws the water bottler at his head.

“I’m not the jerk here.” Percy says. “I needed a vacation and if you hadn’t seen those stupid memories you would have been fine with me being out of the country indefinitely.”

Ginny hexes him seven times, but afterwards she lies on the beach next to Percy and they look at the clouds. They spend a week together, nicely quiet and wild. They go for walks, play on the beach, make a house at night out of random transfigured things (Percy doesn’t notice Ginny’s look of utter bafflement and awe) and eat goblin bread (this time Percy does notice the look but assumes it’s because Ginny loves the taste).

Percy refuses to go back with her but he promises Ginny that he will be there for Christmas. Two days later he does go back to England, the bastard. His correspondence with Oliver has become… heated, to put it some way, and waiting a week for the owl to arrive is intolerable.

Percy thinks this might be some sort of penance. It’s nippy in England and he can’t be dressed in a t-shirt/loincloth anymore. There is a flock of owls permanently following him, trying to deliver their messages from the Ministry and the papers and maybe, even now, from his family. Worst of all, Oliver writes him all kind of randy letters but refuses to shag Percy, even though he is right there, because of sports. Something about turning frustration into spectacular athletic performance, Percy doesn’t know. He is so frustrated that he goes and stops a plan to assassinate Potter all by himself.

On Christmas Eve Percy goes home and he is yelled at, cursed at, cried at and loved, very loved, it’s embarrassing. He is rescued from the madness by Potter who easily admits he has been fuelling the newspapers infatuation with Percy because that way they left him slightly in peace.

(And on Boxing Day he moves in with Oliver).

#asks #harry potter #percy weasley #Anonymous #verse: percy ministry spy

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tazzytypes · 4 years

Text

Apocalypse:Sanctuary - Chapter 13

Finally! The next chapter is here! Thank you all so, so, so much for being patient. I'm working up to five hours a day, five days a week on top of college so balancing that has been a wild ride. Now— to the story!!

Read also on AO3 or see more chapters on the Masterpost!

Chapter Text

Cordelia looked down the dining room table at her girls. She loved all her students equally, but the original three held a special place in her heart. The feeling was much like a mother would feel towards her firstborn child.

Opulence covered the table, rich food on plates or in bowls that glittered from the light of the chandelier above them. Fresh flowers that never wilted were placed equally apart, tall enough to be seen and admired but not so tall as to block one's vision of the person across from them. Not a stain marked the white table. One of the perks of being magic was the ability to don white without damaging the fabric in the first few moments of wearing it.

Joining them were their two new arrivals. Coco had slowly but surely relaxed, accepting her new reality. Emily on the other hand… was resisting. Situated between Coco and Mallory, she looked between those talking, but never joined in the conversation herself.

“Coco!” Mallory exclaimed, leaning forward to see past Emily. Something was held in her hand which she tossed at the young socialite. “Try this one!”

Emily looked between the pair, leaning back as a small cake was tossed in front of her. Mallory laughed at the face the brunette made, placing a gentle hand on her arm as she apologized. The other girl’s smile of reassurance was strained.

Their attention turned to Coco, a small gurgling sound leaving her as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Most of the girls paid no mind, engulfed in their own conversations and far too used to magic to be pulled from them.

Cordelia watched the exchange with a smile, chuckling to herself as Coco waved her hand over the pastry. Emily looked upon the scene with the same wide eyes the woman had seen in the greenhouse.

Suddenly the gurgling stopped and with a blink of her eyes, the blonde seemed perfectly normal. “Yep. This has gluten.”

“That was really cool, Coco!” Mallory said, her constant smile growing a little wider as she beamed at her new friend.

“If you consider looking like you’re having a seizure is cool,” Coco said, chuckling awkwardly as she looked to Emily, “Trust me, I know how I look.”

“…it isn’t that bad,” the girl tried to offer, more out of polite behavior than actual truth.

Coco only laughed, “You’re a horrible liar.”

As the chatter roared like waves crashing onto a sandy shore, Cordelia leaned towards her red-haired mentor. She was sure to keep her voice low, just in case the revelry was not enough to mask her words.

“Do you recall any witch-hunting in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century?”

Myrtle sipped on her cocktail, a look of surprise quickly vanishing as thin brows furrowed. “There are still witch hunters, my dear. They’re a cockroach you cannot kill. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Are there any that stand out? That were different in some way?”

“I don’t know,” the woman sighed, humming as she thought. She waved the stick of olives in her drink as she thought, biting one off when she finally came to an answer. “There was a case of a particularly powerful witch — showing enormous talent with the gift of pyromancy. A boarding school under the care of the emerging Delphi organization brought her to a creek in the middle of the woods.”

Myrle scoffed in disdain, “using the poor dear as an initiation ritual! Simply barbaric.”

“What happened to her?”

“She burned those who sought to burn her! Pushed the fire to consume them before collapsing in on itself. Wasn’t powerful enough to free herself, little as she was. Hung there for days before being saved. Then she made her way to our academy and the rest is history!”

Taking another sip from her drink, she turned to Cordelia with a raised brow. “Why do you ask, Delia?”

The Supreme’s eyes glanced over the table before she dared utter a word.

“I felt her magic,” Cordelia explained after a long moment of pause as she considered her words, “her magic is… restrained… like a tiger in a cage.”

Myrle let out a short laugh, “aren’t we all.”

“She knew that story, Myrtle,” Cordelia pressed, “she dreamed it as if she were the woman herself.”

“Seers are rare, even for our time. Two in one era would be quite the feat. A Hollywood hoax would be more reasonable than—”

“No, I tested her, Myrtle,” Cordelia said, eyes focusing on their new sister. Emily was more relaxed now, grinning and laughing as Coco told a wild tale. “She’s the real deal.”

***

First days were always stressful. Emily was beyond tired, hardly able to get some sleep the night before. In new places, it was normal to not sleep well. The body would put itself on alert just enough to react to any new threats. Emily could deal with that. It was the nightmares she could do without.

Dolls had been the bane of her childhood, creepy little creatures that didn’t blink. The brunette used to have nightmares of them as a child, but this was the first time she had one as an adult.

It was a strange dream. Quite short, as well. She was in an attic filled with dolls, tea sets, and small dresses. There was a shelf filled with the porcelain creatures. Walking towards it, she had filled with dread. Then, one of them screamed.

It was enough to make her skin crawl.

Tugging at her skirt, Emily looked around the table. There wasn’t a familiar face among the girls, no one that she had dined with the night before. The dining room was free of food, but the white roses from the night before still stood proudly in their vases.

She felt underdressed — donning a self-made crop top with a touristy “Chicago” across the front she had gotten at Ross for five dollars and a high waisted black skirt that she had found in the depths of her boxes. Where she was from, most kids rolled out of bed in their PJs and went to class.

The girls chattered amongst themselves, clad in Chanel, Ralph Lauren, and Tommy Hilfiger. She couldn’t tell one from the other, even with brand symbols proudly flaunted. Emily was just glad she liked black. The color hid the sweat from the Louisiana humidity.

God, what was she doing here?

No one bothered to speak to her, too busy talking to one another. So, she fidgeted with her bracelet and waited for the class to start, listening in on the conversations around her.

“I practiced in my room for ages and still couldn’t do it!”

“I don’t think it’s actually possible to change the color of a rose… at least, not completely. Living things are far too stubborn.”

“You’ve always preferred working with the dead.”

“It’s where my talent lies.”

“If Mallory can do it—”

“Mallory is a show-off. She was practically gloating when Miss Cordelia showed up.”

They were interrupted by someone entering the room. Emily had been so intently listening, eyes focused on the table before her, that she didn’t even note it till everyone went silent. When she looked up, Zoe was standing opposite to them with a calming smile on her lips.

“Alright girls,” she said, once again talking with her hands, “who would like to explain what we’ve been practicing?”

A girl to Emily’s left answered eagerly, “Changing the color of a rose!”

“Teacher’s pet,” the girl next to her whispered.

“Shut up!” the girl hissed.

Zoe was unaware of their banter, choosing instead to walk down the table until she settled before one of the vases. “It might seem easy to alter the color of a flower, but the rose is unique. It resists change.

“One thing’s certain. Nothing is immutable when the will of a strong woman is applied.”

She looked to her students and gestured to them. Emily turned to watch their reaction, hands reaching out to grab a rose from the vases before them. Timidly, she mirrored their actions — watching how they held it, how they looked at it, how their expressions changed.

Their teacher herself plucked one from the arrangement, holding it out in front of her like a mirror. Zoe’s fingers tightened around the stem as she felt her magic rush through her. With furrowed brows, she focused on what she wanted. Slowly, red oozed onto the petals, a crimson stain that consumed them.

“Now…” Zoe said, looking to Emily with a grin, “show me how strong you are.”

Emily didn’t do anything for a long moment, choosing instead to observe. It was strange to see people look at an object with such intensity, their jaw flexed and eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.

Some students were able to conjure a color at the base of the petals, their eyes flickering with hope before the color faded. Others were only able to change a single petal or even the stem of the plant. One girl managed to wilt their flower into a blackened husk.

“Not again!” The girl cried, earning a little bit of laughter from her peers. “Why does this always happen?”

“You’re focusing too much on the part of you that can conjure fire,” Zoe noted, coming around the table with her rose and leaning over the girl. “Instead you focus on the…”

Emily turned back to her rose, staring down at it before lifting it up. She kept her hold on it loose as if she were a model for an 18th-century portrait.

She recalled her lessons in middle school, the water cycle and how it interacts with plant life. They had studied the way flowers take up water from their roots — how they consumed nutrients with no mouth.

There was a video she had found where someone put blue food dye into the water. After a few days, its color of the petals came to match it.

The brunette pictured that, a puddle of blue at the stem that slowly crawled upwards towards the rose. Energy crackled through the air, felt by everyone but herself.

“I got it!” The girl with the charred flower exclaimed, the flower blooming into a bright yellow color. Zoe smiled at her.

“See, you just had to—”

Another girl leaped up in her seat, “I got it, too!”

Loud conversation roared as success filled the room.

“Wow, the color is staying, too!”

“The planets must be in alignment or something.”

“I got it!”

Zoe looked upon her students with content. It was a wonderful feeling, seeing these girls succeed. She understood why Cordelia stayed with the school even when it was almost empty. There was no feeling that completed her quite as much as teaching.

Her eyes came to settle on her newest charge. Emily stared intently at a rose on the table, her hands on either side. Zoe moved to reassure her when she noticed her pallor, pink drained from her skin.

“Emily…” She said, going to rest a hand on the back of the girl’s chair. It screeched as it was flown back, a flurry of black rushing by Zoe and nearly toppling it over before they disappeared down the hall.

“Looks like someone’s first day jitters got the best of them,” one girl noted, earning a few chuckles, “Her magical gift must be indigestion.”

“Oh, like you didn’t throw up the first time you sucked the life out of a fly.”

“Shut up!!”

Zoe paid no mind to their words, already chasing after the girl. Emily pushed past a few students, almost running into a confused Cordelia who stood in the center of the hall.

Pursing her lips, Zoe hung on the frame of the dining room’s doorway. Cordelia caught her eye and looked to her with a raised brow.

“Zoe! I can’t do it anymore!”

“…Keep practicing.” Zoe said, “I’ll be right back.”

The woman spared a glance at her students before her gaze returned to the hall. Pushing herself away from the room, she started to make her way to her Supreme.

“What’s going on?” the blonde woman asked.

Zoe shook her head, “I don’t know, but I have a hunch.”

The sound of retching filled the hall, the two women glancing at one other before hurrying towards the nearest powder room. Once again, the sound came and Zoe spared a worry glance to Cordelia before gently knocking on the door.

“Emily? Emily, we’re coming in.”

Inside the room, their new student was hunched over the toilet. Panting, her back arched as she was sick once more. Vomit burned her throat and stung her nose. She hadn’t been publicly ill since she was a child. It wasn’t a situation she was particularly happy about reliving.

Cordelia knelt down at her side. Her hands went to the girl’s back, gently soothing her before moving back her hair with her other hand. Her words were hushed and comforting. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

“Sorry,” Emily apologized once she was able to catch her breath. She rested her head on the back her hands, for once glad they were permanently frigid.

Cordelia smiled at her, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before resting her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We all get a nervous stomach sometimes.”

“I have anxiety… this wasn’t that. It—”

Another wave of nausea rolled over her and her throat burned. Cordelia felt energy crackle in the air, but it felt weaker than before. She looked up to Zoe who simply nodded, indicating she felt the same thing.

Once the retching passed, the girl finally turned to face the woman beside her. Zoe’s hands flew to her mouth as she gasped, running into the hall.

“Queenie!”

Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked to her headmistress. Cordelia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she reached over to grab a piece of toilet paper. The brunette stiffened as she reached out to wipe something from her mouth, hand immediately going up to stop her.

Taking the toilet paper in her own hands, Emily swiped at her face. Crimson filled her hands when she pulled it back. Her eyes darted to Cordelia, wide and full of fear. The woman’s gentle touch to smooth down her hair wasn’t as comforting as the blonde thought it was.

“Oh, shit!” a voice exclaimed from the door, Queenie standing with Zoe in the doorway. ” What’s going on here?”

Cordelia’s touch on Emily’s arm was as light as a feather, gently easing her up to her feet. Brows furrowed, she watched as the girl wobbled. Her brown eyes flickered between Emily and Queenie.

“Please take Emily up to her room,” Cordelia said, “Zoe and I will go to the greenhouse and make a remedy.”

Queenie simply nodded, coming forward and allowing the girl to lean on her. One of her hands wound around Emily’s waist to keep her steady. “I got you, girl.”

Emily closed her eyes as the world spun, only able to offer Queenie a thankful nod. Slowly, but surely, they began to walk down the hall. Cordelia watched them go, step by step. She wracked her brain for a remedy.

“There’s something different about her,” Zoe finally spoke once the student in question was out of earshot. “I—”

“Can feel her power?” Cordelia said, sparing her a glance. “So can I.”

“I think she was giving power to the other girls… not willingly. More like a generator.”

Cordelia’s gaze spoke volumes, skepticism written in her eyes.

“I’ve been teaching those girls since day one,” Zoe explained, “I know what they’re capable of. Girls who couldn’t even conjure a color last lesson had suddenly created a perfect spell.”

Her Supreme shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line.

“It doesn’t make sense. “Zoe said, “How could she be putting out magic without—”

“You said many of the girls who struggled with the spell found success.”

“Yes, but—”

“Perhaps they were able to tap into her magic because she was letting them— opening a door.”

“There’s no spell—”

They were interrupted by a shout from the second floor. Queenie’s voice shaking in their bones. “Cordelia!”

***

Emily stumbled a bit, the hand on her arm tightening around her wrist.

“Hang on there,” Queenie said, “You look like a rake, but I don’t think I’ll be able to carry you the rest of the way.”

“Sorry,” She sighed, the pair stopping for a moment until the dizziness went away.

“That’s like the fifth time you’ve apologized,” Queenie said, “I’m walking you back to your room, not bringing you back to life.”

“I hate being a burden.”

“I’ve spent the last few years in a hotel from hell playing cards with a gambling ghost. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

Emily let out a small, breathy laugh. A smile curled to her lips and Queenie couldn’t help but smile as well, shaking her head and chuckling.

Then, the girl in her arms dropped like a sack of potatoes.

“Oh, shit!” Queenie cursed, tightening her grip as she tried to ease the girl to the floor. “Cordelia!”

Queenie heard the Supreme bound up the stairs before she saw her. Cordelia was soon sprinting down the hall, her former student filling her in as she approached.

“She just dropped like a rag doll!”

Dropping to the girl’s side, Cordelia’s hand went to Emily’s throat. Her pulse was still strong, but magic was thick in the air. The spark she had felt before morphing into a raging inferno.

“Let’s get her to her room.”

“How? We can’t carry her.”

On cue, Zoe appeared with Kyle. Zoe’s eyes were frantic, darting between the other women and her boyfriend. Her hand clutched onto his arm, tugging him along.

As soon as she was settled in her sheets, the three witches began throwing up protection rituals. Whatever caused this damage was magical in nature. Their spells would stabilize Emily until they found out exactly what they were working with.

“What exactly can we do?” Queenie asked once the last incantation was uttered, “She has magic, but—”

“Remember the Seven Wonders?” Zoe asked, looking to Cordelia, “how you… got the sight back. Maybe something is keeping her from her own power.”

“Ok, but what?” Queenie said, “We can’t exactly go around mutilating—”

A whisper came from the bed. They all froze.

“…Spalding.”

Hairs stood up on the back of Cordelia’s neck, dread rippling through her body. Her hands moved on instinct, throwing up more protective wards.

“You stay away from my girls!” She growled; dread replaced by roaring rage.

“She… found… me,” Emily spoke in her sleep, words slurred ever slightly.

Zoe grabbed the hands of Queenie and Cordelia, pushing them into a circle over the girl. Queenie’s hand reached out for Cordelia’s. Their knuckles went white as they gripped onto each other for dear life. The muttered sounds of a banishing chant filling the room.

Their voices grew louder and louder with each repetition until they were shouting as loud as they could.

Spalding was resisting, his tie to the school making his power stronger. Zoe wondered if it were better to bring him back like they had the Axe Man. Kill him twice and kill him good.

A sigh trickled past Emily’s lips. Her peace was momentary, fear settling in as she lurched up with a gasp. Cordelia let out a relieved laugh, sitting on the bed and pulling her into a hug. Emily did not return the gesture, pulling away from the headmistress’s grasp.

“See you met the resident creep,” Queenie noted, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced to Zoe and Cordelia. “Imma’ feel real exposed taking a shower tonight.”

Cordelia pulled away from Emily, placing a hand on her cheek. Her thumb brushed over her skin as if convincing herself the girl was still alive.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“… A room filled with dolls,” Emily said, the memory quickly fading. Her lips curled into a frown and her brows furrowed. “I hate dolls.”

The Supreme could only laugh, pulling away and looking up towards the other two witches.

“She needs rest, but I don’t think she should be alone.”

“I can stay with her,” Zoe offered, “Queenie, you mind teaching my class.”

“I’m not dealing with spoiled rich girls,” Queenie said, “I already have to deal with Madison.”

Zoe gave the girl a look.

“…Fine, but you owe me.”

***

After the incident, weeks passed with a semblance of normality. It was easy for Emily to fall into rhythm with her scheduled classes. At the moment, hers were more focused on the academic side of witchcraft than actual practice.

Latin, rituals, wards, and anything else than could be found in the worn pages of the ancient copies were her daily routine. More often than not, she taught herself in the corners of the academy. Emily had a habit of worming herself into the tiniest corners no one noticed. Allowing her to be immersed in the ancient texts.

Zoe had taken to sleeping in her room as a precaution. Emily could not recall the incident with Spalding, a dream that left her as soon as she awoke. They were quick to fill her in on the creep.

Wards were placed in her room, but she still felt unsettled at the thought of a dead man creeping around in her head. Especially a man so obsessed with dolls.

Either way, it was enough to convince her that she indeed was a witch, strange and unpredictable as her talent may be.

Still, she spent most of her hours away from other students. Mallory, Coco, and herself would speak during meals. Outside of that, she only interacted with those of the “inner sanctum” — the original trio of witches.

Emily sat in the greenhouse; books spread carefully around her as she wrote in her grimoire. She had always been content in her own company. Books, to her, were good if not better conversation partners than human beings.

“I thought you were going to join the other girls on a walk.”

When she wasn’t reading, she was tending to the plants — germinating seeds and tending to their individual needs. Cordelia had taught her how to assess PH. Since then, the brunette had been diligent in her role. The greenhouse had never been more alive.

Emily looked up from her books to the doorway, the light from outside surrounding Cordelia like a halo.

She sighed, making an excuse up on the fly. Her hands tugging at her short locks of hair.

“My leg hurts,” she said, looking back to her books, “and I didn’t want to risk getting my hair burned off again.”

Cordelia smiled and chuckled. The youngest fire-starters were always the ones that did the most damage. A curse of tantrums.

Most of her girls were older, but uncontrolled magic made desperate parents search for guidance. Robichaux giving them a sense of hope despite the pain of separation.

The Supreme wandered to the other side of the table. Trying to read upside down, she found that the girl was translating spells from Latin.

“You’re only going to get as much as you put in.” She reminded.

“What more can I do? I’ve read every book I could and memorized all the words and gone to lessons and nothing happens.”

“Just because you cannot change the color of a rose or raise them from the brink of death doesn’t mean you’re not as witch as the rest of us.”

Emily scoffed, focus returning to her books. “I talked to a creepy old man in my sleep and didn’t remember any of it. I’m a fucking… generator of magic, but not a practitioner.”

Cordelia sighed and took a seat across from her, gently closing the books so that the young woman would have to look at her.

“You are a catalyst,” the blonde said, reaching to put her hand over Emily’s, “that is a power in and of itself.”

By now, the Supreme was used to Emily enough to not take offense when her hands slipped away from her touch. She watched as the brunette clenched her fists before settling them in her lap. Her hazel eyes tore away from Cordelia’s gaze and settled on a random plant somewhere behind the woman.

“In my dreams, I have so much power,” she explained. Her gaze wandered down to her hands, broken and useless things. “I can conjure flames, summon weapons to my hands, raise flowers to life, fly, and I…”

She sighed, clenching her hands into fists once more. “… I wake up and I am powerless.”

Cordelia’s head cocked as she listened to her. Emily didn’t often speak of her dreams, a secret she wished to keep close to her chest. It made Cordelia wonder about the source of her power… the specific talent which sang louder than the rest. She’d have to speak to Myrtle, but for now—

“I didn’t come to lecture or admonish,” The Supreme reassured, “Every path taken in this school is unique and I know you are strong enough to make your own way through the thorns.”

“Then why are you here?”

Hearing her words, Emily grimaced. “…sorry, that sounded—”

Her headmistress could only smile and shake her head, “You’re honest and to the point. There’s no crime in that.”

Silence consumed them, Emily waiting for the woman to state her business.

“I have a… proposition for you,” Cordelia said.

“Which is?”

“How do you feel about California?”

***

Michael looked this way and that as he stepped out of the maze which was the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men. Being recognized as alpha gave him a great deal more freedom than he had before, his professors more lenient towards his breaking of certain rules. The nature of his origins, however, was a secret he needed to keep close to his chest.

A smile pulled at his lips as he reached the cusp of the nearby hill. Mead was beaming at him, hands raised in the air as she jumped to get his attention. “Oh, my dear boy!”

Like a child, he rushed towards her, hands outstretched to hug her. No, he wouldn’t risk the warlocks knowing of the only woman who had ever mattered to him.

“Look at you!” Mead exclaimed, holding him at arm's length with a frown, “You’re skin and bones— you’re wasting away. Don’t these people feed you?”

Michael’s grip tightened around her arms, his voice anxious and insistent. “I’m fine. Just tell me you took care of the problem.”

“The problem is now a stack of overcooked country barbecue. They can bury him in a shoebox… if they can find him.”

Relief rolled off Michael in waves, shoulders finally losing a bit of tension which had plagued him for weeks. He was so close… so close to fulfilling his destiny.

“Good,” he sighed, nodding his head, “And what about—”

Mead smiled, “Already at the witch school. Are you sure your father—”

“The vision was clear,” Michael assured, straightening his robe. “These people are the only ones who can pose a threat to me. Once I become supreme, I can destroy them from within…”

He placed his hands on Mead’s shoulders, smiling. “… eliminate their whole fucking coven. Then the road will be clear for me to do what I was born to do.”

“So, stop worrying,” Mead said. The poor boy had dark circles under his eyes and was so tense he was practically buzzing. “Look how easy it was for you to win their trust, to get into their school. They may be wizards, but they’re not exactly wizzes. Everything is going beautifully.”

Michael sighed, pulling his eyes away from her and instead choosing to stare at the dirt at his feet. “I still have to pass the Seven Wonders.”

“You will own the Seven Wonders… and then all their covens and then the world.”

A smile flickered to Michael’s lips. He pulled the woman into a hug, allowing himself to relish this moment of peace.

“What would I do without you?”

“Well, that’s something you’re never gonna’ have to worry about.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon x reader

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ephrampettaline · 4 years

Text

tea with jam and bread | iann, freddie, ephram

It would be cheating to bring booze, because Iann would’ve just nicked it from Stonefruit anyway. So in the spirit of melon-Cthulu, instead Iann toted over a slim, well-packaged box of assorted glacé fruit which included small pears, clementines, plums and even a row of chestnuts, apparently. All of it derived in some supernatural way; because Iann wasn’t just satisfied with regular humanish tokens of appreciation. He jabbed at the doorbell of their Jamara mansion, calling out. “It’s me!!”

Ephram had, naturally, left the entirety of guest-preparation – from tidying to menu to decor – in Freddie’s hands. taking it upon himself only to dress himself and sit patiently through a short lecture from Oliver on what would count as proper behaviour during this little … playdate. “Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” Ephram protested mildly. “It’s a proper tea! Ain’t that pretty much the standard for polite gatherings?” Of course Iann chose that moment to ring the doorbell and simultaneously yell through the door and Ollie huffed in what passed in Chin for an amused eyeroll. “He’s excited,” Ephram said, with a firm nod. “I am too. Don’t make fun of us.”

He went to the door and opened it, flinging it wider than it really required as his eyes went immediately to the fancy box Iann was holding. “Is that for me? Come on in, man, good to see you oh hey is this fruit? And what’s –” Ephram rudely took the box and started prying into it immediately, shutting the door behind Iann with his shoulder and hollering, “FREDDIE! IANN’S HERE! HONEEEEYYYY!”

The door was flung open by Pettaline, and Iann didn’t mind the way the witch grabbed the box. It was for them after all, but now Iann was wondering if he should’ve also brought….flowers or something pretty but impractical. Iann never really understood the appeal of bringing dead flowers to someone’s house as a greeting. At least booze was drinkable, candied fruit edible. If he could’ve brought over a fancy electric drill to help then out with future home repairs, he would’ve.

“Let him primp,” Iann said with a wave, when Ephram hollered for Freddie. He took off his coat and baseball cap as Pettaline asked about the gift. “It’s like those whole fruit that’ve been candied. The candymaker guaranteed they’d have a crunch and they were juicy. Oh! And they’re all grown in a special fairy farm, apparently. Not in the Otherworld, of course. But in some sort of magical pocket-dimension.”

Freddie, who still didn’t know what to make of this entire endeavour - caught somewhere between touched that it was happening, and waiting for the other shoe to drop - heard Ephram call for him and slipped on one more ring, straightening his watch on his wrist, before coming out of the closet and heading down the stairs, to see his husband and his business partner stood in the foyer pouring over some sort of box in Ephram’s hands.

“Hello, love,” Freddie said, dragging a hand slowly across the small of Ephram’s back and giving Iann a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he smirked, “-but I see you haven’t made it very far, so I suppose I’m not holding things up too badly. How are you, darling?” he asked, as Ollie trotted out, his nails clicking on the hardwood, to check on their progress.

Ephram held up the box for Freddie to look at, having already prised out a glistening sugary clementine for himself. “Chestnuts,” he supplied helpfully, “magic ones, too. From a fairy farm. I didn’t think there was any fairies in the world who’d have an interest in farming, but then I reckon my view of fairies all revolves around you.” Ephram snickered and sampled the candied fruit, his teeth crunching into it – as promised – and syrupy juice dripping onto the floor. Not that he paid it any mind, tucking the rest of the sweet into his cheek so he could hang up Iann’s ballcap and coat.

“I know you been here before, Iann, but it’s different when we’re here too, ain’t it? I mean our home ain’t really homey unless we’re in it at the time.” Ephram gestured grandly to the enormous wooden sculpture of a raspberry that was reclining in the middle of their foyer. “Like it? I call it Bigfruit. Freddie thought it would look good there. It’s new since you was housesitting.” As if Iann wouldn’t have realized.

Freddie helped himself to a candied plum, smiling at the rich juicy flavour, chewed politely, swallowed, then laughed at his husband’s assessment of farming fairies. “In all honesty,” he said, “-I’d never have thought of farming as an attractive fae career option either - but it takes all sorts, I suppose. And if this is the crop they yield, it does make a bit more sense to me.” Freddie smiled again, rather proudly this time. “And Bigfruit DOES look good there. It’s a statement piece and it needs space to really be seen and experienced.”

“Good. Cold,” Iann responded gruffly, leaning into Freddie’s kiss before he nodded his chin towards the, well, Chin. “Hey you,” he said, because he’d just seen Ollie at the Stonefruit yesterday. It only made Iann realize then that he hadn’t seen Freddie there. Maybe the fairy was at the Inn yesterday, but Ollie was who Iann remembered. He took a tiny pear from the packet and crouched down, holding it out for the familiar to try as he squinted up at the other two. “Try this one. All types of fairies, all types of farms,” Iann intoned, then squinted between Freddie and Ephram’s legs at the wood sculpture. “Oh, uh. What is it?” Iann asked, his uncouthness shining through.

Ollie accepted the little pear graciously, made an approving sound, and shot a small doggie grin up at Iann, already pleased by how well things were going, then huffed out a put-upon sigh when Iann asked what Ephram’s sculpture was, wondering if this was the beginning of the end already.

“It’s a raspberry! Only big. Bigfruit,” Ephram supplied only semi-helpfully, figuring that from this angle, Iann wasn’t able to make out what the sculpture was exactly. He watched Ollie eat the pear, because seeing the little Chin eat non-dog-friendly food never got tired, and then rumpled the back of his head and asked, “Where we settling down, honey? The kitchen, or the living room? I can get the fire going.” He grinned at them both. “I can even use the magic way to get the fire going, for once. Instead of building one up my own self.”

Iann wasn’t out to be insulting or cruel, it was just he didn’t understand art, and didn’t try because it would be inauthentic. That didn’t mean he couldn’t respect creation, even if his artistic intelligence was low-to-nil. So when he stood up again he went over to the sculpture and pet at the drupelets. “Can I touch it?” Iann asked, even though he already was. “Is this mahogany? That’s a good wood.”

“I was thinking the living room, actually,” Freddie said, “I think we’ll all be happier if we keep things a bit more casual. So if you start the fire, sweetheart, that would be lovely, and I’ll start fetching things out of the kitchen.” He turned to Iann. “You make yourself at home, love, yeah?” and then glanced down at Ollie, fairy and familiar passing a silent communication between them before Ollie herded everyone off to the living room.

Ephram nodded, pleased by how this was all going so far. “Touch away,” he encouraged. “It looks like mahogany, don’t it? But it’s a local wood I discovered tends to fall over a lot in stiff winds, so I reckoned I’d make use of the downed logs. Called smoothbirch. Scratch it,” Ephram told Iann. “It smells like nutmeg.”

Once Bigfruit had been admired, they meandered to the living room where Ephram flicked at the ensorcelled control panel for the fireplace and flames instantly crackled along the small pile of logs there. “I don’t know what all Freddie made neither,” Ephram confided to Iann as the fairy bustled off to the kitchen. “So this is gonna be a surprise for me too. You'ns got somethang like this at work? At the bistro? We had to shut down a place near the University for having a high tea where they was booked up for months in advance.” Ephram paused, then elaborated, “–uh, on account of one of the proprietors being involved in criminal activities, not because of their tea. I just mean it seems like a popular thing.”

“No shit??” Iann said, perking up and using his bitten nails to scratch at the wood, leaning in to sniff it. “Smoothbirch,” Iann repeated to intern into his memory. “Where’d you find it?? I should ask Ranger Will to find me some, seems useful. Not for carving shit, I’ll leave that to the experts. But I think I’ve seen it mentioned for ritual stuff before. I just thought they meant birch that’s been like, sanded and aged and waxed or something.”

Iann followed Ollie and Ephram into the living room. He shook his head, then argued with himself at Ephram’s question. “No. Wewll yeah - I mean when it’s booked and arranged for a thing, a function or some special event, ah, special. Not a normal offer on the menu.” He grinned, finding a couch to sprawl onto. “Krizti Kameda, who ran Almond Cream Teahouse, yeahhhhh. I know what she was up to.” Iann dabbed at the side of his nose.

Freddie brought out his first tray of finger and open sandwiches, along with the slow-cooked breast of quail, set it all down, then paused to buss Ephram’s cheek and ask for help with the rest. “The cakes and pastries and the actual tea, love,” he murmured, “I’ll be ages dragging it all out here myself, and I’d rather not leave you and Iann on your own for too long.”

Ephram hopped to his feet, seeing no reason why he couldn’t loudly trail this conversation with him to the kitchen and back again. “Of /course/ you would know Ms. Kameda,” he said with laughing exasperation at Iann. “She’s right up your god dang alley, with her underhanded deals and trades. Don’t drag my husband’s good name down with yours now, y'hear?”

Ephram cackled to himself as he piled his long arms and big hands with the baked goods and pot of tea, getting it all arranged safely for the trip back to the living room. Freddie’s ‘good name’, of course, being in somewhat the same neighbourhood as Iann’s when it came to sly thievery and dabbling in the illicit and forbidden. “I’ll draw you a map for the smoothbirch after we have tea.”

“His good name, huh?” Iann repeated in mild amusement. He watched Freddie return with a tray of sandwiches, all of them neat and uniform, and what looked like a tiny bit of chicken. “Is that oh-so good name hyphenated by the way? I don’t know if I know. Like, like did you guys go for the whole Watts-Pettaline, or Pettaline-Watts name change thing?” He did nothing, letting Freddie and Ephram do all the to and fro since Iann at least knew how to read situations like this. Trying to 'be helpful’ could quickly become 'awkwardly getting in the way’ and everyone wanted to prevent that.

So Iann stayed with Ollie, grinning in anticipation at all the food being toted out. “We’re the lucky ones, huh? Don’t have to lift a finger,” he said to the familiar. “Thanks man,” Iann said to Freddie, sitting forward but still waiting until he got the green light to dig in. “It looks amazing. If this is high tea then no wonder we only haul it out for special occasions at the Inn. And no wonder it’s always sold out.”

Freddie chuckled along at the idea of his 'good name’, following Ephram back to the living room with the pot of steeping darjeeling, and making sure everything - including plates, cups and cutlery - was accounted for before finally sitting down himself to answer his friend’s question. “No officially, no. I’m still Watts and he’s still Pettaline - but we do use the hyphen amongst ourselves sometimes. Just for fun.” He waved a hand at the spread laid out before them. “Eat up, everyone - and thank-you, darling for the compliment. You’re right though - high tea is a pain in the arse and that’s why we only do it every so often. Chef would have my guts for garters if I foisted it off onto her every week.”

“Pettaline-Watts, is the going version.” Ephram efficiently harvested at least one of each food item onto his plate and devoured a finger sandwich or two before adding, “–it sounds nicer that way, cadence-wise.” The quail put Ephram in mind of eggs, and he bounced slightly in his seat, saying, “Oh! I can’t rightly recall who I told what plan to, about the Golden Fowl, but we’ll all go together this time, right? Freddie was saying that since the island is hidden with fae magic, all Otherworldish and stuff, then his fairy dust might be able to affect it. We might be able to help that atronach feller was stuck in stone on there, Iann, remember him?” Ephram shook his head dolefully. “So much bird shit.”

“No, I don’t remember him.” Iann replied, but his tone was conversational, like he cared less about the plight of the atronach than Ephram did, but was still amenable to locating the unfortunate fellow again. Iann was too occupied with his plate of sandwiches, looking at them with interest before trying them, then deciding which ones were his favourite so he could go back for more. “Oh really? Affect it how?”

Ephram, shocked that Iann didn’t remember the plight of the frozen-stone atronach, subsided momentarily into a teacake and two cups of darjeeling.

“Well,” Freddie said, giving a bit of a shrug and glancing at his handsome husband for both encouragement, and just the sheer pleasure of looking at him, “-I’m not entirely sure. But being that this island sounds to be an Otherworld outpost, or pocket dimension, and fairies are infinitely more powerful in the Otherworld, I thought maybe that might make a difference. Plus, Ephram told me that you can’t carry more than one bird over the bridge, but I can fly so that seems like a bit of a loophole in and of itself.”

Iann paused with a partially consumed sandwich in front of his open mouth. “Holy shit,” he said, then crammed the sandwich in his mouth and tucked it into his cheek as he spoke. “We could totally try and fly some of those chickens out of there! We could fly like five of them. They probably need to be culled anyway. Not like they got any natural predators on that special little island of theirs. Unless that island exists in another dimension that’s accessible by other fae-kind who happen to like a bit of KFC.” Iann grinned. “Alright - we’ll try and take chickens and eggs. And that help out that atronach fellow as well, sure.”

Ephram crammed in the rest of his cake and swallowed it down with tea, sitting back a little to slow down in eating now that he’d sampled enough to start filling his belly. “Carefully, though,” he admonished the other two, looking between them, their alert, clever faces. He’d had moments of envy when it came to how Freddie and Iann worked together so well – he’d be lying if he said he was never jealous – but when it came down to it, Ephram liked the idea of them. As friends, as business partners; it could get lonely for people of a certain temperament if there was nobody else around who could keep up, engage, lob ideas back. They could get carried away on the shining brightness of their ideas, though, which was why Ephram felt it his duty to say, “We can try with the eggs and chickens and flying, but the very minute it seems like it might be going south, we drop everything and get the hell outta Dodge. Otherworld Dodge Island. Whatever.”

Freddie leaned over and kissed the corner of his husband’s mouth tenderly, laying a hand over his witch’s heart. “Carefully,” he promised, “No foolish risks taken, love. I guarantee it.”

Iann smirked and tried the chicken nugget, which turned out not to be chicken but some other sort of fowl. Whatever, it tasted good and Iann always ate whatever Freddie put down in front of him. Pettaline getting all cautious made Iann smirk (not at the fowl nugget) because Iann didn’t balk at efforts of authority. He rather liked it because either he could just go along with it if it suited him, or skirt around it if it didn’t. But regardless of whether or not he chose to listen (depending on the situation) Iann always appreciated when someone could be a Voice of Reason. It wasn’t easy to take that role in a world full of wannabe rebels and anarchy-geeks.

“Honestly - has anyone ever seen this guy do anything that could even be within the realm of 'foolish’? But I see what’s going on, uh-huh. 'Foolish’ to rhyme with 'Cardero’, okay, mm-hm, yeah, I’m onto you two. Think you’re subtle, huh. I’ll behave.” Iann reached out to get one of the scone-looking things. “Oh I like this.”

Freddie set the clotted cream and strawberry jam in front of Iann. “Oh, that finger wag was as much at me as it was at you, love,” the fairy chuckled to his partner, and then squeezed his husband’s knee. “But I mean it, sweetheart, I won’t push my luck, hm? None of us will.” Freddie paused for a moment, looking from Ephram to Iann and back again, then said, “Now speaking of luck - namely mine, as I’ve got you both here, getting on like a house on fire - what do I have to thank for this little miracle? I mean, really, yeah? Because this is lovely.” He chuckled again. “Even if I have to admit that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop a bit.”

“Oh right–” Iann said, reminded by the jam and cream that the scone-things were matched with the spreads. He opened one up and slathered one half with both. When he bit it, cream and jam wet his moustache as well, but Iann mopped his face with his cloth napkin, replying blithely. “Yeah well, it’s not as miraculous as you think. Pettaline showed up at Stonefruit and we talked shit over and then I made him invite me for a snack. But this is a fucking feast, which is even better.” As for the other shoe, Iann shrugged and looked over at Ephram. “No hidden shoe coming from me. I won’t even put them up on the couch, promise.”

Ephram sipped at his tea demurely, feeling very satisfied with his and Iann’s efforts so far. “Ain’t no other shoe, Freddie, come on now,” he said, voice low and warm even through the scolding. “Can’t a couple of fellers decide it’s high time to work through whatever bad business has gone on in the past?”

He looked back at Iann as the other man turned his glance over at Ephram. “Especially when said bad business wasn’t actually neither of us doing the other one wrong.” Anaxis, possession, branding, metuo sanguis – a morass of horrible things, but nothing that either of them was at fault for. Just uncomfortable associations that got tied to the other one. “I mean, I like it being called a lil miracle, though. But obviously that’s something Iann and me was never gonna agree on, heh.”

Iann nodded, consuming the other half of the scone as he pointed towards Ephram as the witch talked. “Agreed, all of that. That fucking demon,” Iann grunted and then took a gulp of tea. He didn’t really think there was much to elaborate, since he’d explained this before to Freddie, and Ephram already understood. So repeating that refrain would be redundant.

“Also agreed on the lil miracle thing,” Iann smirked, waving towards Ephram to indicate that Ephram was welcome to claim the title - and far more deserving of being considered a 'lil miracle’, all things considered. “That Cinquefoil really upped the ante, I guess.”

Freddie smiled and held up his hands as an act of concession, happy to be wrong in this instance. “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, “-you’ve both made your point. And you’re right - there’s no reason the two of you shouldn’t be able to clean the slate and move forward.” He smiled again, giving a gracious nod. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m just glad we’re here, is all. So from here on out, I’m just going to shut up and enjoy it.” He turned to Iann and said sincerely, “I’m glad you’re here.” And then he turned to his husband and took his hand, kissing Ephram’s knuckles, “And I’m glad you invited him.”

Freddie laughed. “It’ll just take a bit of getting used to; that’s all.”

Ephram pushed his knuckles gently against Freddie’s chin, scrubbing them into the growth of beard there. “Don’t shut up and enjoy anything!” he protested. “Or at least don’t shut up, you need to enjoy this vocally. Plenty of talking, Freddie, you know you can hold your own against Iann and me.”

Ephram was very pleased indeed that Iann was being gracious about the whole miracle aspect of it, saying, “Well, now – you laid the groundwork for the Cinquefoil your own self, Iann, can’t forget that.” Ephram took Freddie’s hand, turning it over to show the prettified markings there that had replaced the ugly scorched brand that the demon had caused, oh so long ago. “God, sometimes it seems fuckin’ unreal, what we went through.”

Iann stayed quiet, more than content to watch Pettaline protest to Freddie, in a clearly comfortable way for them both and therefore very comforting to Iann. He didn’t begrudge their relationship, far from it. Iann had known for a long time that the pair benefitted each other continually and why would he try to dissuade his friend from anything so completely good? Rare and special as 'good’ could be for individual people? Yet still, Iann knew he’d still managed to bungle it all up. “Sure, sure. I understand that I’m the one on probation here,” Iann said with a wry smile, as he leaned back and extended his arm across the back of the seat (after wiping is hands clean first). “So take as much time as you need, and, ah, I’ll keep trying to improve myself.”

He waved aside Ephram’s words. The witch was generous to say it; but then Iann considered Ephram an overly-generous man, particularly to people who didn’t always quite deserve that generousity, like Iann himself. He didn’t want to take any credit where it wasn’t due.

He looked down at Freddie’s hand, as Ephram displayed his palm, face getting grimmer. “What we went through,” Iann repeated, and then pointed three splayed fingers at Freddie, Ollie, and Ephram. “What you three went through.” Despite the clear cheery afternoon tea, Iann had no compunctions with bringing up such an old grim topic. They’d never all actually debriefed together before, after all.

#freddiewatts #ianncardero #th: tea jam bread #//cut solely for length!#//no need to cut subsequent replies #//<3

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obaewankenope · 5 years

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Summary:

“How was your summer?” Harry asks Ron and Hermione when they all settle down in compartment, trunks and pets all politely stowed away. Hermione has a pet cat—a Kneazle apparently—that seems very displeased with its carrier and she is happy to discuss it at length.

“It was brilliant! I asked my parents to get me a pet for at Hogwarts and—after explaining the magical benefits of a familiar—they agreed.” Hermione proudly smiles at them both. “Crookshanks is very young but very affectionate. He’s also an excellent mouser according to mum.”

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Arriving at Platform nine-and-three-quarters, Harry makes a beeline for his friends, excited at the prospect of spending another year with them twenty-four-seven[1]. Only Aziraphale has brought him to the station today as Crowley had to go on ahead to Hogwarts and sort out a minor magical creature problem—some sort of wild animal in the forest that Hagrid can’t get near for some reason—but the lack of Crowley at the station doesn’t deter Harry. He knows he’ll see his uncle at the Welcoming Feast if not before at the station—uncle Aziraphale is heading to Hogwarts via the Hogwarts Express.

Apparently he wants to experience a steam engine again. Harry doesn’t really get the appeal of that since he can fly but—well—uncle Aziraphale is weird. Harry loves him for it.

Harry frowns. “How’d she figure that out?” he asks, curiously.

“We had a rat infestation in the gardens at the start of the summer,” Hermione answers. “After a week of Crookshanks there’s no more infestation.”

Harry is surprised and wonders if perhaps there’s no other ‘infestations’ of animals around Hermione’s home too; though he doesn’t voice that. “Cool.”

Ron is somewhat sullen as he has no pet compared to his friends but perks up soon enough when the sweet trolley trundles along and they buy enough sugar to give a diabetic a panic attack. The trio discuss what they might experience in the coming year—from Harry and Ron hoping to get on the Quidditch team to Hermione and Harry discussing what sort of homework they’re likely to get from their professors—until a loud and sudden jolting bang disrupts them.

And the entire train.

The Hogwarts Express is stranded on a bridge just past the border between England and Scotland a little after four-thirty in the afternoon. Hogwarts is informed of this stranding at three-minutes-to-five in the afternoon. Crowley finds out about the train at quarter-past-five, six whole minutes after Aziraphale resolves the problem with a haughty snap of his fingers and a very unimpressed commentary for the culprit responsible.

As such, the Hogwarts Express is a whopping eight minutes later than usual and this apparently leaves the Welcoming Feast in shambles. Evidently no one thought to spell the boats that cross the Black Lake to respond when prompted and not at a specific time. All of the students then are forced to travel to Hogwarts together—though first years are left till last to at least give some measure of time for the other years to rush into the Great Hall and seat themselves[2].

The first years are all sorted neatly and with very little fuss. Dumbledore—in his typical fashion—tells the entirety of the school that they have a new Defence Professor and apparently doesn’t think there is a single bit of a problem with this new appointment. Considering that the headmaster seems to rather enjoy twinkling his eyes at Gilderoy Lockhart however—well—perhaps he simply sees him as a pretty face[3].

None of the other staff members—notably McGonagall, Snape, Crowley and Aziraphale—are impressed with the winner of Witch Weekly’s whatever-it-is-smile but they all clap when required. Crowley gives the new professor one clap and a half-smirk half-scowl look that he has worn when feeling particularly disgusted by someone—the last person he directed that look at had been Hastur last time he’d been in hell actually, two weeks ago.

Everyone is sent to bed with full stomachs and promises of classes beginning bright and early—which most students manage a groan at even though they’re stuffed to the gills with food—leaving the staff to retire and do their own thing. Crowley and Aziraphale—being both immortal and not in need of much, if any, sleep—retire together and start Planning[4].

Morning is a dull and tedious affair but the first classes of the year go off without a hitch—that is, until they reach Lockhart and his… interesting teaching methods.

Crowley is called to help wrangle a room full of Cornish Pixie’s and doesn’t bother telling Harry and co off for sticking a lot of them in Lockhart’s chambers—he sends them on their way with a smirk: “off you pop, mind you don’t tell everyone where you put them,” he says and Harry grins at him before escaping the classroom. Lockhart tries to give them detention for his chambers being a bit… roasted but Crowley casually mentions at lunch that he is the cause of the charring as it “seemed like a good idea at the time” and the matter is dropped.

The beginning of the term is nice and simple and not at all stressful excluding Lockhart being stupid and idiotic and Crowley’s increasing contempt for the idiot but then Quidditch try-outs happen and Harry is, as always, smack-bang in the middle of drama.

Oliver Wood is ecstatic to have Harry as seeker for the team. He’s so ecstatic he actually kisses one of the Weasley twins—no one quite knows which one since both are equally shocked—and does a jig on the spot[5]. On the way back to the school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione come across Draco Malfoy and his two ‘friends’—if one can call the bodyguard-style boys whom Malfoy rarely talks to friends—and end up in a small tussle after rude and frankly offensive words are slung.

Crowley comes across the ruckus—along with Aziraphale—and is just not quick enough to separate them all before Lockhart—in typical idiot-fashion—blunders in and causes more problems.

It really is understandable that Crowley loses his temper and teleports the useless excuse for a wizard to somewhere in the Amazonian rainforest to be terrified by the larger cousins of Crowley’s houseplants. It really, really is.

“What—how did you do that?” Hermione exclaims wide-eyed as she stares at Crowley who is trying very hard not to hiss at everything in existence. No one notice the grass in the courtyard starting to tremble.

“Because I wanted to!” Crowley snaps, watching Aziraphale kneeling next to Ron and murmuring soft words to the boy. “Of all the stupid bloody things! That—he—I’ve known demons with more sense than him!”

“Now darling, do be fair,” Aziraphale says, glancing over his shoulder at Crowley. “Some of those demons were angels once, they had to have some intelligence.”

“Not enough not to go and be stupid and Fall, angel,” Crowley responds and Aziraphale can’t argue with that. “Yes, that includes me shut up.”

Aziraphale wisely shuts up.

Ron is gifted—as a result of Lockhart’s truly horrific magical ability—with coughing up slugs every few seconds until Aziraphale thinks of the right way to word the miracle and clears up the bout of gastropod mollusc indigestion.

“Pessstsss,” Crowley hisses at the slugs that are on the ground even after Aziraphale miracles Ron slug-free. The demon snaps his fingers extra hard and the slugs pop out of existence with a kind of quiet little echoey-scream more suited to a horror movie than the Hogwarts courtyard.

“Now, now, Crowley,” Aziraphale lectures, “they’re only doing what they were made to do.”

Crowley doesn’t respond to that—though any other time he probably would, with expletives—because his attention is drawn to the three Slytherins trying to not-so-subtly sneak away from punishment. “Detention,” Crowley drawls, looking at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle with a not-so-nice smile. “Hagrid needs help with the dung heap for classes next week. He’ll be ecstatic for the help[6].”

“Wh-what about Potter!” Draco half-whines half-wails and it’s truly extraordinary the pitch the boy reaches. “And Weasley! And Granger! They attacked us!”

Crowley—in typical Crowley fashion—tilts his head a little and raises an eyebrow. It’s an interesting sight considering his sunglasses obscuring his eyes—sunglasses he hardly takes off outside of class unless he’s with Harry or Aziraphale—and lends itself to intimidation quite effectively. “They defended their friend from a bully—nothing wrong with that in my book.”

“Bu- wha- that’s not fair!”

“You called me a Mudblood, Malfoy!” Hermione shouts at the Slytherin boy who gives her an angry, ugly look. “You’re lucky I didn’t knock your teeth out!”

Crowley smirks. That would have been a sight to see, really.

Now, objectively speaking, children who get into physical fights are punished equally because—as they always say—two wrongs don’t make a right. Crowley thinks that is absolute rubbish. If someone is being a dick to someone and insulting them then the person being insulted is well within their rights to shut up the dickish person with a solid punch to the jaw or solar plexus. Of course, Crowley prefers words first but he’s decked a couple of demons before in the past and he’s perfectly happy and willing to deck a few more. If and when required, of course[7].

At Hogwarts, had it been any other teacher besides Crowley who’d caught them fighting, there’s no doubt both parties would have detention. Because that makes sense, right? It doesn’t matter who’s in the wrong if they’re fighting—except that it does.

Especially when the fighting is caused by stupid idiocy of a child who has no understanding of anything except his horrifically narrow worldview and likely could stand to benefit from a few smacks upside the head by people with some common sense.

Besides—Ron has been belching up slugs and he’s the one who was about to hex Malfoy so, in Crowley’s eyes, Ron’s already received his punishment. Now it’s Malfoy’s turn.

The Slytherin boy obviously dislikes Crowley’s logic but doesn’t argue much further beyond a “my father will hear about this” as though that’s going to intimidate Crowley into changing his mind. The day Crowley fears a pompous, stuck-up, entitled prick of a parent is the day Crowley starts simpering at Beelzebub’s knee.

So basically never.

Dinner is a simple, enjoyable affair without Lockhart at the staff table and Crowley takes great pleasure in being able to relax and lean against Aziraphale in his chair and not give a flying fuck what Dumbledore or any of the other staff think about it. If Crowley wants to sit next to his angel—or half sprawl across him as it is—then he’ll fucking well do exactly that.

Propriety be damned.

Of course, then Dumbledore ruins it all by dragging the staff to his office after and ‘politely’ demanding to know where the hell Lockhart is and what they’re going to do with Defence classes until he returns. This prompts Aziraphale to give Crowley That Look he does—the one that ended up with Crowley making bloody Hamlet popular—and the demon just groans.

“Hagrid can cover until Lockhart—uh—probably—returns,” he says, only a little bit reluctant. “I’ll take over Defence.”

“Preposterous!” Snape snarls, robes swirling in a swirly manner as he stalks across the room and stands directly opposite Crowley. “I am more than qualified to teach Defence, headmaster! Not this—” he gives Crowley a particularly nasty look that makes Aziraphale bristle “—child snatcher.”

Most would be forgiven for assuming Crowley to be the one who takes offence at people insulting him. It’s an easy assumption to make since he is, indeed, intimidating and quite vain. But they’d be wrong. Crowley can take name calling and insults and threats to his person and not give a damn—it’s very much par the course of being a demon—but insult someone he cares about—like Harry or Aziraphale—and Crowley takes every aspect of his personality, his past, everything he is and has been and May Yet Be and he turns it on the person being stupid enough as to insult what he loves.

Severus Snape assumes Crowley will hex him, curse him, shout at him, or even—perhaps—take a swing at him.

Severus Snape is wrong.

Big shock there.

“How dare you!”

You see, the mistake Severus Snape makes—that everyone makes—is thinking Crowley will defend himself. He won’t. Not unless he has to. But the thing is—he doesn’t necessarily need to. Not when he has an angel standing next to him bristling with anger and indignation and no small amount of wrath to do it for him.

Aziraphale stalks forward, placing himself between Snape and Crowley, his eyes blazing and they’re much brighter than usual because he is angry and they Know It Now. He raises a hand and pokes Snape in the chest. “Harry was being abused by his relatives and Crowley rescued him! You dare accuse him—him of all people—of snatching children! You have—you have no idea the lengths he has gone—what he’s been through—just so a few children can live when they were—when it was—when they weren’t supposed to according to the Almighty! How dare you!”

Crowley reaches out and touches Aziraphale’s arm, trying to calm the angel because he can feel how angry Aziraphale is. It’s too angry for this enclosed space with humans with magic that can possibly sense What They Are if they show too much. Aziraphale needs to reel it in.

“Angel, angel,” he says, pulling a little on Aziraphale’s arm and the angel turns to look at him. Crowley shakes his head ever so slightly and Aziraphale—understanding the demon and respecting him—backs down.

It’s clear in the way Aziraphale gives Snape a look that is only a second away from a Smiting that he really wants to keep going, but reason and common sense regain traction in Aziraphale’s mind and the angel steps back to stand flush against Crowley’s side. It’s obviously for his own reassurance as much as it is to send a Clear Message to Snape and the others that Aziraphale will not stand for someone threatening Crowley.

Perhaps that is why, then, Dumbledore doesn’t push the issue. The headmaster accepts Crowley’s solution but stresses that it is only until Lockhart returns or they need to find another replacement as Hagrid is still not fully qualified[8].

Some idiot—probably Lockhart before he was sent to only Crowley knows where—suggests a duelling club at some point and a gang of seventh years take it to the headmaster who—after some consideration—decides that it’s a splendid idea so long as there is suitable oversight. This results in Crowley—as the temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—being roped in to oversee the entire fiasco. He opens it up to the rest of the school after a fifth year tries to sneak in to practice with the seventh years and only comes to regret this decision when Harry, Ron, and Hermione show up.

More specifically, he comes to regret it when they get it into their heads that he—as the defence professor—surely must be a skilled duellist and therefore can probably wipe the floor with Aziraphale—only a simple librarian—as well as the rest of the staff.

Harry, the absolutely unrepentant little brat, is grinning when he says, “you can probably beat the headmaster too.”

Now, considering Crowley is a demon, he obviously can best any human in near enough any avenue but, since the entirety of the school doesn’t believe he’s a demon, there’s an assumption that he’s just rather good at magic and probably is a dark wizard with less-than-dark-morals.

The irony of that belief is fucking hilarious, really.

Unfortunately for Crowley, Aziraphale shows up at the duelling club to watch it all and offer help with sourcing research for improving duelling skill. This means that the angel overhears—it’s not really ‘overhear’ since Harry and his friends seem to purposefully pitch their voices to carry—the remarks about Crowley obviously being a better dueller than Aziraphale.

And this is the point where Crowley wishes he’d never thought to visit Surrey that day—it’s only for a moment, but he wishes it nonetheless and has a jarring moment where the wish takes and he’s in an entirely different place, with strangers, and feels so painfully alone, before he banishes the wish and reality reasserts itself.

“It’s boring if you watch us adults do all the fighting!” Crowley exclaims, making sure his voice carries. “Oh sure! We have practice and we have skills but the best weapon you’ll ever have in a fight is imagination! What’s imaginative about watching us fight—” he gestures at himself and Aziraphale who has come to stand beside him “—when you could watch each other fight and use your imaginations to shape the magic instead of just copying us?”

“What do you mean?” One of the Ravenclaw fifth years asks, frowning. “We have to know spells before we can duel effectively,” she argues and—well—she’s right, you do need to know Stuff before you can Do Anything but sometimes… sometimes that Stuff is a barrier to what you can Try First.

“Yeah but you didn’t know spells when you were babies and you still did magic,” Crowley points out. “You learn stuff—words and numbers and maths and about places and spells—and that just—it limits your imagination—tells you what is and isn’t—all that sorta thing!” He looks at Aziraphale who is giving him his best Oh You’re On Your Own With This look and Crowley rolls his eyes. “Instinct and imagination are the best things you have—even when you probably think they aren’t—because one keeps you alive and the other makes you feel alive!”

“So—I don’t know—don’t think about spells and words and what charms suit whatever! Imagine you can make magic do anything for you—the language is meaningless; it’s human and limited! Magic isn’t limited! Magic is—it’s—well it’s—” Crowley stumbles, trying to think of a word, a way to explain what magic is.

Aziraphale comes to his rescue. “Ineffable.”

None of the Ravenclaw students really seem to get what Crowley means—well, some do, but most of them are as confused as the rest of the students from the other houses—and Crowley wants to sigh. He should have known trying to explain magic—just another form of Divine and Infernal power—to humans wouldn’t go well. They just can’t comprehend it.

Still. He tried.

“Pair up, try and disarm, tie up, trap each other. No maiming, no killing, nothing dark, and no torture—of any kind,” Crowley sighs, giving up.

The students all scramble to pair off and—unfortunately—Hermione and Ron pair up before Harry can snag either of them. Someone shoves into him and he ends up tumbling into Malfoy who gives him a dirty, haughty look before it switches to a horrified expression when Crowley declares: “you’re all paired up. Get duelling.”

Neither Harry or Malfoy have any real chance of grabbing different partners—especially since everyone around them is paired up and already throwing spells around like they have the magical equivalent of semi-automatic weapons and not single shooter wands—but this doesn’t stop them from at least trying. It fails—naturally—since they’re both second years and the students around them are fifth year and up and don’t want to be saddled with babies when duelling.

This leaves them both reluctantly accepting they are stuck with each other until they have a real chance of swapping with someone else. Unfortunately, this ends as most of their interactions usually do: badly.

“Serpensortia!”

A large black mamba erupts from Malfoy’s wand, propelled by whatever force the spell creates in the air directly toward Harry. It lands a few feet from him and hisses angrily at the landing.

Snakes, as a general rule, do not enjoy being dropped, thrown, dragged, or any variation of these. It is perfectly reasonable then for the snake to be Most Peeved and wanting to lash out at anything near enough for it to sink its fangs into.

The nearest thing just so happens to be Harry James Potter who also just so happens to be a parselmouth.

“Are you okay?”

The snake hisses confused because here’s a human talking to it after it’s been dropped into this place from where it was very nice and comfy in the forest curled up in a patch of sunlight. “I am not! I have been attacked in my sleep!”

“Attack- oh, Malfoy summoned you from somewhere?” Harry looks surprised for a moment before he decides to focus on the fact that the black mamba is still Very Annoyed. “It wasn’t an attack, it was a spell. He used it to summon you in a duel. Probably thought I’d panic and run away from you.”

“Why aren’t you?” The snake asks, curious and calming down more and more as it listens to Harry speak to it.

The entire hall has fallen rather silent around them but Harry is focused on the snake because he doesn’t want it to hurt anyone. He does wonder if uncle Crowley is going to arrive soon. It would be nice, he thinks, for the snake to have someone else to reassure it.

“I like snakes,” Harry says, shrugging. “My uncle is one.”

“What kind of snake is he?” The black mamba slithers towards him now, curiosity outweighing its anger because—well—it’s curious. “He should be a strong, large snake. I might like him if he is.”

Harry smiles. “Any kind of snake he wants to be.”

Obviously that statement nonplusses the black mamba but before it can hiss out anything else, Aziraphale and Crowley are there, students moving further away from their professors who stare at Harry kneeling near to the black mamba.

The very venomous snake that is now rearing back in alarm.

“It is not possible!” The snake exclaims, and its blinking in the way snakes do but if it were human the expression on its face would be very close to fearful respect and awe. “You are—it is—creator!”

Aziraphale smiles. “And another one recognises you, dear,” he says to Crowley who rolls his eyes.

“Shut up angel,” Crowley says before he steps forward and focuses on the snake. “Yes yes, it’s me, I know, bit of a shock. Come here—I’ll get you back to where you belong after a check-up. Silly boy using a snake-summoning spell like that.” He kneels down and holds a hand out for the black mamba to slither toward and around. “He could have hurt you.”

“I am strong!” The black mamba says, curling up his arm and slithering across his shoulders. “He did not hurt me, just startled me. I was sleeping!”

“Well that was rude of him,” Crowley says glancing at Malfoy who looks shockingly pale—well, more pale—and flinches when the demon looks at him. “You woke her from her sleep—can’t blame her for feeling bitey for that. Horrible thing to do.”

This—apparently—is some sort of Signal for the entire hall to lose its collective mind as students either scramble for the door or badger Harry and Crowley with questions and accusations. Aziraphale silences the lot of them with a snap of his fingers that has the hall of students staring at him dumbfounded.

“You’re scaring her with your shouting,” Aziraphale says, reaching out to pet the black mamba on the head. She allows his touch, leaning into it and Crowley doesn’t give Aziraphale a slightly jealous look for the attention he’s bestowing on the snake—but it’s a near thing. Okay so he does. He does and Aziraphale just smiles at him in return.

Dumbledore is informed later on at dinner of the events of the duelling club when Crowley shows up to dinner with the black mamba still on his shoulders. His explanation for why she’s still around is a simple, “she wanted to sight see” and none of the staff are willing to question that any further[9]. The whole school is abuzz for days with rumours of Harry, Crowley, and Aziraphale being a trio of dark wizards—even though Aziraphale is literally a being of light and purity and charming awkwardness—because they’re parselmouths. These rumours all conveniently leave out the source of the summoned snake and the technicality that Aziraphale doesn’t speak parseltongue, he can simply be universally understood by all animals and can understand them in turn.

Of course, these are teenagers with teenage imaginations and they run absolutely wild with it all. Considering the attack on Mister Filch’s cat that occurred only a month or so prior, it’s not entirely surprising that Crowley is dealing with petrified students—not literally—in his classes until the Fear aspect wears off when he loses his temper, transforms into an abnormally large python and sulks at his desk for an entire class. Apparently something about Crowley becoming a snake to avoid the fears of his students strikes them as inherently illogical and totally in-character for the professor they’d come to know in Care of Magical Creatures.

This action helps settle down the fears and rumours of the students toward Crowley and, jointly, Harry and Aziraphale. It is a relief considering the Christmas holidays are just around the corner and he has no desire to deal with a glum angel or depressed son while they’re in London.

Thus it is that Christmas begins with Harry rushing for the train, Monty the snake wrapped around his arm and Dog-the-mongrel—who has deigned it necessary to not live in the forest any longer at the moment and thus is willing to be With Her Human—loping along beside him in a stride that could be maintained for hours.

“I’ll see you guys over Christmas right?” he asks, the moment he’s comfortably seated—Dog-the-mongrel curled up at his feet and Monty asleep in his lap—on the train. “Uncle ‘Zira told me that you guys are totally welcome at the bookshop.”

“And Professor Crowley?” Ron asks, wary and a little bit afraid still. He has accepted that Harry can talk to snakes and Doesn’t Think It’s A Big Deal but the ginger is still wrapping his head around their temporary defence professor being a parselmouth as well.

Harry shrugs. “Uncle Crowley wants to take me to the reptile house at London Zoo,” he says, “I don’t think he’d mind if either of you came along. He wants to see how they’re taking care of the snakes, he says.”

“You don’t believe him?” Hermione asks, frowning.

“No, I do,” Harry says, “but I think he might want to—I don’t know—I think he wants to just see them. Maybe they’re his friends?”

The idea that Crowley is friends with snakes on display at a zoo is—apparently—not as mind-bogglingly shocking as him declaring himself to be a demon and never being believed by anyone he tells except Harry.

Harry’s Christmas is relatively normal for the most part. He enjoys his gifts from his friends and his adoptive parents—Crowley and Aziraphale both give him gifts that are very expensive and cost more than it did to build Hogwarts but they’re immortal and money is no consequence to them. Hermione gets him an eagle feather quill that looks fantastic but won’t get used as much as it might have considering one of the gifts he received from Crowley was a single black feather quill that looked like it belonged to a giant swan but was, in fact, from Crowley’s own wings. It was a treasured possession and one Harry would always favour above and beyond any other quill he’d ever receive.

Ron’s gives him a book on the Chuddley Cannons that is an obnoxious shade of orange. Harry is pleased with it regardless of the colour scheme and settles down to read it while waiting for the Christmas dinner he can hear Aziraphale and Crowley bickering over as they make it. Hagrid’s tin of treacle fudge is expertly dished into a baking tray by Crowley and shoved in the oven after dinner is ready so it can be somewhat edible by the time they’ve finished eating.

Overall, Harry’s Christmas is as pleasant as ever and he is forever grateful that Crowley took him away from Number Four. It’s why he gives Crowley and Aziraphale gifts of his own that are—to some—rather tacky but have a lot of meaning behind them. This year, Harry gives them both a copy of the first picture he ever took of the three of them when he was ten and Aziraphale gave him a camera. The image moves like a magical photo because Harry had done what no one in the duelling club had thought to; he’d imagined it to be moving and pushed magic at the photograph until it did exactly that.

Aziraphale is prone to tears when he’s happy, sad, or any sort of emotion besides angry, so Harry isn’t surprised to be swept into a hug by the angel and see tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. He is surprised to see Crowley wiping a tear away from his eye just moments before he gives Harry his own hug—one that is just a bit too tight to be a casual embrace. Harry doesn’t entirely understand what he’s done to elicit such emotions from the two but he understands that they love him. They love him enough to have fought off Voldemort last year. They love him enough to argue with Dumbledore all the time. They love him enough that they chose to raise him and don’t regret making that choice.

And all of that—that all means the world to a boy like Harry James Potter. He has a family and it’s a little bit odd but it’s still good—and bad—and he is forever grateful for it.

He doesn’t realise that Aziraphale and Crowley are grateful for the same thing.

But he will. In time. He will.

[1] He acts as though he hasn’t seen them the entire summer when he has—no less than two dozen times in total, including the week-long visit to the bookshop by Ron and Hermione, and also Harry’s own week at the Burrow. This is standard behaviour of children however, and thus doesn’t really require any commentary beyond a “thought you ought to know” feeling by the author.

[2] Everyone’s luggage is left on the train except the basic necessities like medication at the polite but firm orders from Aziraphale. He snaps his fingers moments after the students have all left the platform at Hogsmeade and the luggage is promptly delivered to their correct locations with the exception of a few select objects that Crowley will take great pleasure in making inert before returning them to their original owners.

[3] Heaven- and hell-know that’s all Gilderoy Lockhart really is. And even then, it’s not a particularly pretty kind of face. More smarmy and irritating and obviously plucking of the eyebrows to the point of problems. But each to their own Crowley and Aziraphale both figure—well, who are they to judge?

[4] It is worth noting that neither of these two absolute morons know what they’re actually planning for and, rather, this is more an excuse for them to spend time together. Of course, since they’re both in love with each other to a sickening degree, the fact that they still pretend otherwise at times—and, indeed, seem to embrace the ruse—really says a lot about them both, doesn’t it?

[5] Not—to clarify-an Irish jig. No. That would be stereotypical and not at all okay. No, Oliver Wood does the equivalent of jumping up and down very quickly and with barely any actual height attained because he’s so full of energy and joy and cannot adequately channel it. This is—incidentally—why he kisses one of the twins; they’re the nearest to him and simply a victim to his manic happiness. Not that said twin complained after the shock wore off.

[6] In truth, Hagrid will not thank him in the slightest for sending three annoying, whining Slytherins to come do manual labour but the groundskeeper-assistant-professor does take a certain amount of glee in witnessing Draco Malfoy falling into said dung heap no less than three times in one night.

[7] The irony of this is not lost on the author who has finally decided that this entire series is set in the 90s as a sort of middle way for the Harry Potter novels technically set in the 80s and Good Omens set in the same period, but then there is the TV version of Good Omens which the author loves and is set in the bloody 2000s+… honestly, the author is past the point of caring here, but since they shot themselves in the foot with mentioning the 3 Ninjas movie (well done, you utter fool), it is decided that the year of Our Lord is 1992 at this point in the story. The irony then—now the context is explained—is that Crowley is very well going to fight some demons about twenty years from this point and be very tired of himself and circumstances as a result. Also, this author staunchly argues these two idiots are A Thing from day one and they just have periods of Denying It For Political Reasons. Like idiots in love tend to do.

[8] Crowley gives the headmaster the middle finger at that remark. Aziraphale doesn’t even bother to pretend to be shocked by the action, too busy still being angry and wrathful.

[9] The black mamba had eventually returns to whence she came after meeting Harry’s own snake and deciding he had adequate protection as the chosen child of their creator. It leaves Harry a little bit confused as to why he needs protection but his snake—thusly named Monty for Reasons that Harry refuses to explain to any pureblood wizard including Ron—but Crowley distracts him with the story of How He Made Snakes For God and Harry quickly forgets what the black mamba was talking about.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Spoilers #Ineffable husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #HP #Harry Potter #Absconding with Harry verse #Year Two #2nd chapter #Fic update #GOmens

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celosia-starfall · 5 years

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Once Upon a Starlit Night

This is for @aphrarepairweek2019 I ended up being without internet for the past several days because of bad storms in the area, so I’m going to slowly be getting the other days done and posted over the next couple of days. But anyways, I hope everyone enjoys the story!

AU: Inspired by the movie Stardust

Pairing: 2p!England x Nyo!Canada

Prompt: Night Sky

Summary: One night Oliver sees a shooting star fall to earth on the other side of The Wall. Crossing over, he finds himself in a magical land that he had only heard of in stories, and soon has to face the consequences of his actions.

When Oliver was a child, his mother used to always tell him stories about a hidden kingdom that was filled with magic and fairies and witches and sky pirates. And where the stars would come down to dance among the people.

For the stars love music, you see, his mother had said, and when they danced, that was when they were at their happiest. That was when they would share their magic with the people. His mother would then frown. But then the people began to get greedy and wanted to take the stars' magic for themselves. So the stars kept themselves in the sky to keep an eye on mankind, vowing to never return to earth until mankind changed. It was then that she would lean forward and whisper in his ear, But sometimes if you sing or play music to them, they'll dance across the sky.

And every day since the first time that his mother had told him that story, Oliver would sneak out onto the roof and sing to the stars, hoping to see them dance like in the story or that he’d be able to meet one of them. His mother eventually taught him the piano and violin, teaching him all of her favorite songs that she loved to listen to.

However, the day that his mother died, he stopped making music, and he stopped believing that the stories that she had told him had been true. After all, if it hadn’t happened after so many years, then how could he believe that it wasn’t anything but a fairy tale?

Everything changed on Oliver’s eighteenth birthday.

“Oliver, I’ve got a present for you,” Jacques, his long-time neighbor, said as he held out an elongated box. He wore the same bored expression as he always did, but that didn’t deter Oliver from putting on a cheerful face as he came around the counter of the bakery.

“Really, now? You didn’t have to!” he exclaimed, wiping his hands off on the towel in his hands as he stared at the box.

Jacques’s next words caused him to raise an eyebrow, followed by a pang of disappointment. “I didn’t.” He seemed to shift uncomfortably, and Oliver soon found out why, his cheerful smile faltering. “It’s from your mother. She apparently gave this to my dad a long time ago and told him to keep it safe for you until your eighteenth birthday, for whatever reason it could’ve been. I don’t know, and I don’t really care. Just take it.”

The words stung, but Oliver chose to ignore it in favor of taking the box and setting it on the counter. Hesitantly opening the lid, he froze at the sight of his mother’s old violin. In the box, there were also sheets of music and a letter with his name on the envelope in his mother’s handwriting. “Ahh-- Thank you! Don’t forget to thank your father for me too,” Oliver said, forcing a smile back onto his face as he turned to Jacques.

The blonde merely rolled his eyes and walked off with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, whatever.”

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Oliver gently closed the lid of case, setting it off to the side in the back of the bakery. Why would she wait until now to have it find its way to me? The idea of playing any sort of music again haunted him, when all it did was remind him of his mother and how she had ended up dying on his birthday eight years ago to the day.

Throughout the rest of his shift, his gaze kept drifting to the violin case, debating with himself on what he should even do with it. That’s how he eventually found himself standing out in one of the meadows at the edge of town once the sun had set, staring up at the night sky and all of the stars with the violin in his hand.

“Mother… If you’re out there somewhere… If you can hear me… I don’t know why you decided this. Why you decided to give me the violin. Why you wanted to wait until I was eighteen until I could have it. I read your letter, but it all feels like nonsense. It’s all just talking about fairytales and stars and-- and make-believe children’s tales. I loved those stories when I was little, but how can I believe in magic when you were the magic in my life? Without you…” Oliver shook his head, wiping the tears welling up in his eyes with the back of his hand. “Look at me, getting all blubbery. But anyways, I know it’s my birthday...but I wanted to be able to play a song for you, if that’s alright? I know you would insist that I don’t have to, but…” He trailed off, sniffling as he brought the violin to his shoulder.

At first, the notes were wavering and unsteady, slightly out of tune at times, but eventually, Oliver found himself relaxing into the music, into the feel of the instrument and the way the strings seemed to hum against his fingers. All of the memories of practicing when he was a boy began coming back, and the music was beautiful, soaring melodies that bared his soul and emotions to the world. It wasn’t until he had looked up and seen one of the stars falling across the sky, followed by a crash in the nearby forest, that Oliver stopped playing.

One of the stars fell out of the sky… That shouldn’t be possible!

But all of his mother’s stories were fresh in his mind, and Oliver quickly returned his violin to its case and secured the strap over his shoulder as he jogged off towards The Wall.

The Wall was, well, a wall. A wall with a single hole in it that was guarded by a grumpy old man to keep people from crossing over it. From everything that he had seen of the other side of The Wall, there was just a normal looking field and a normal looking forest. Oliver had never seen any reason as to why people weren’t allowed to go on the other side, and right now with the mission on his mind, he wasn’t going to let the man stop him.

Which was why, despite the physical strain, Oliver climbed over the top of the wall himself. It made for a bit of a rough landing, but he only stopped to make sure the violin was unscathed before continuing off across the field and into the woods. It was only when he had been wandering around for nearly thirty minutes that he realized that it had been foolish of him to simply run off without any kind of supplies or lantern to help guide his way. On top of not telling anyone where he would be going…

He was just about to turn to despair when a light caught the corner of his eye through the trees. Creeping forward through the trees, Oliver’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the crater that filled the area. And at the very center of it was a young girl laying on the ground.

Throwing caution to the wind, Oliver hurried down the slope and came to a stop next to the maiden. She wore a silver dress that glimmered and gleamed like the starlight above, and her hair tumbled past her shoulders in long golden locks.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…

“M-Miss?” Oliver said, resting a hand on her shoulder and gently shaking her to rouse her from her slumber. The outdoors was no place for a lady to be sleeping, after all. “Miss? Wake up. Are you alright?”

Eventually a light groan fell from her lips and her eyelids fluttered open to reveal the most stunning violet eyes that Oliver had seen. He hadn’t even known that eyes could be that shade of purple, or even purple at all!

“Where--” She struggled to sit up, Oliver wrapping his arm around the back of her shoulders and helping to lift her into a sitting position. “Where am I? I heard music playing…”

Blue and pink eyes looked over her with concern. “Are you alright?” he repeated, hesitant to move away in case she fell over. She felt warm against him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t think so. My head hurts from falling, but I think that I’ll be okay,” she murmured gently, glancing up at him. “Do I know you? Your voice sounds...familiar.”

At that, Oliver raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t believe so, dearie. I’d have remembered if I had met someone as beautiful as you before.” The compliment had made her blush, but Oliver wasn’t focusing on that right now. “Did you fall down the crater and hit your head? What were you doing out so late?”

She tilted her head slightly, looking confused. “No, I didn’t fall down the crater. I fell out of the sky, of course. I heard someone playing really beautiful music and I tried to get closer to hear it, but then I ended up falling because I got too close.”

Now, Oliver was growing concerned. Perhaps she hit her head a little too hard when she fell, if she’s making up such stories like this. A smaller part of him at the back of his brain nagged at him that that wasn’t the case. Either way, he couldn’t just leave a lost maiden out in the middle of the woods to fend for herself. There was no telling what kinds of creatures were lurking out there, not to mention uncouth bandits that wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of such a lovely lady. No, I have to do something to help her.

“It’s alright, love; I’ll take you home and get you all patched up,” he murmured, gently smoothing his free hand over her silky locks before lifting her up. She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck at the sudden loss of the ground beneath her. Oliver whispered a quiet apology as he started walking, almost stumbling a few times on his attempt to get out of the crater. Somehow he had managed it, despite the girl’s protests that she would be able to walk just fine.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, nearly making Oliver trip over a protruding root as he was trying to navigate his way back towards the town.

He could’ve sworn that he'd already introduced himself, but maybe he had forgotten to because of how distracted he had been. “My name’s Oliver, but my friends call me Ollie. And what may I call you?”

“I’m Madeline, but my sisters call me Maddie,” she murmured, her fingers playing with the ends of Oliver’s hair. It made him want to shiver.

“Madeline… That’s a beautiful name,” Oliver responded, being rewarded with a blush from the girl, from Maddie.

“I still think that I know you from somewhere,” Madeline continued, her violet gaze shimmering as she stared up at him. It was almost like he could see pinpoints of starlight radiating in her eyes if he looked close enough and long enough.

It took far more concentration than he would’ve liked to keep his gaze in front of him and to not keep staring into her eyes. It made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m not sure how you could’ve…” Oliver mumbled, ducking his head beneath one of the lower hanging branches.

“You have a violin with you,” Madeline murmured, raising one of her eyebrows as she tapped the case lightly. “I heard violin music playing before I fell. It had to have been you… The music was beautiful…” A frown pulled at her lips and her gaze became distant. “It sounded really...sad too though. As if you were mourning a loved one. Did something happen?”

The question startled Oliver as he stepped into the open field, The Wall just in sight. A smile spread onto his face, a little too wide, a little too pinched at the edges, as he shifted her more comfortably in his arms. “No, no, of course not. Why would anything have happened?”

Madeline’s eyes were sad as she looked up at him. “Ollie…” The way she said his name made his heart leap in his chest.

“Hmm?”

“...You should really learn how to smile a little more naturally.”

Her words stopped him in his tracks, his blood feeling like ice in his veins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. “I can feel that you’re in pain… You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling--”

“Oliver Kirkland! Where the Hell have you been and how did you get over that wall!?” The voice boomed from the distance, making Oliver flinch and internally groan.

Of course, Alaric was bound to find out I had crossed over somehow… Probably because I stopped playing the music… Maybe he saw the star fall too and-- Then he mentally slapped himself. I didn’t even get to find the star that had ended up falling…

Still, Oliver squared his shoulders as he approached the crumbling hole in The Wall, Alaric’s broad figure glaring menacingly down at the young man. His long hair, which was white with age, fell past his shoulders and Oliver had always thought that it had given him the impression of being an old war god. That was when his gaze drifted to Madeline who merely stared serenely back at him.

“Oliver… What are you doing on That Side of The Wall?” Alaric murmured slowly, climbing up the crumbling bricks with an agility that belied his age.

“Uhh-- I had been out playing my mother’s violin and I ended up seeing a star fall into those woods, and so I thought that I would go find it and bring it back to show Jacques? But then when I was looking for it, I found this maiden at the bottom of a crater. Her name’s Madeline, and she said that she had ended up falling, so I figured I would bring her home to make sure that her head is alright…” Oliver trailed off as Alaric began to shake his head in exasperation.

“Boy, you don’t know what you just did, do you? There’s a reason why people aren’t supposed to cross over this wall…” Before Oliver could react or move away, Alaric had suddenly grabbed a handful of Madeline’s hair and cut it, climbing back over the crumbling bricks. “You don’t even know what you just found…” Slowly, Alaric pulled his hand back through the hole, and Oliver watched with wide eyes as Madeline’s hair twisted and crumbled into nothing more than a handful of-- “Stardust. You wanted to find your fallen star? Well, you have her right there in your arms, and if you bring her over to this side, she will die.”

It felt as though Oliver had taken several heavy blows to his gut. Madeline was the star? So all of Mother’s stories… All of them were true. All this time… And I made Madeline fall, and I’m putting her in harm’s way, and I can’t bring her back home with me, otherwise she’ll die and crumble into nothing but stardust…

A heavy hand pressed itself against Oliver’s shoulder and he looked up to see Alaric standing in front of him again. His voice was gentler when he spoke this time. “You have a hard decision to make, boy. One that I wish you never had to make, which is why I guard this wall at all times to make sure accidents like this don’t happen again…”

Oliver’s voice was thick as he looked back down at Madeline in his arms. “What decision?” he asked, though in his heart, Oliver already knew the answer that he would be given.

“You bring her over the wall and let her turn into dust; you leave her to fend for herself and never return to the other side of the wall again; or…” Alaric paused, seeming to hesitate before sighing, “you stay on that side of the wall with her and never return to town again.”

Cool fingers found their way to Oliver’s cheek, causing his gaze to meet Madeline’s. A small smile was on her lips, as though she had already accepted whatever fate would be bestowed on her, and that felt like a stab in his heart to know that she so completely trusted him. His gaze lifted helplessly to Alaric. “What about all of the things at the house? What about Jacques--”

“You know Jacques has never felt the same for you, and I’ve never understood why you’ve tried to do so much for a boy that has never once given you the same courtesy or done anything for you in return…” Alaric shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. It felt like another stab, because Oliver knew that he was right. “As for all of your things… Should you decide to stay there, I could arrange to have the necessities brought to you.”

“I--” Oliver bit his lip, holding Madeline closer to him.

“Ollie… You don’t have to stay…”

He blinked in surprise, looking down at the star in his arms. A fallen star… “W-What are you talking about?”

Shaking her head, Madeline hopped down out of his arms, the silvery dress swirling around her. And not for the first time that night, Oliver was reminded of how beautiful she was. “If your heart belongs with your home, then you should stay there. You don’t need to worry yourself about me, Ollie.” She rested her hands on top of Oliver’s. “I’ll always be listening for your music, no matter how far apart we are.”

“Maddie…” His eyes widened as she stepped back, gathering up her dress and bolting towards the forest. “Madeline!” Oliver stretched out his hand towards her as if that would be able to stop her from running away. Was it something that I said? He felt cold. Turning back to Alaric, his eyes were pleading.

“What’s your choice, Oliver?”

Oliver’s feet were already moving before Alaric had finished the question. He may have been exhausted from trekking the distance twice already, but fear was a big motivator as he ran, calling out Madeline’s name in desperation. A slew of worries ran through his mind, the same as when he first found her. Why would she end up running away like that? How could he ever make a decision to leave her?

“Ollie?”

His head jerked around toward the sound of Madeline’s voice, seeing her standing against a nearby tree. Her eyes were wide with surprise and she didn’t make a move as Oliver jogged over to her, panting and out of breath when he wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t ever run off like that again. You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“What are you doing here? I don’t understand--”

“Oh, Madeline, my house hasn’t been a home ever since my mother died, love… There’s nothing for me to go back to there besides things that bring me nothing but grief and people in that town that do nothing but pity me for growing up without a mother from such a young age.”

“B-But-- But what about--”

Oliver placed his hands on Madeline’s cheeks. “Jacques was somebody that I had cared about because he was the only person that I thought cared about me. But Alaric was right… Nothing I had ever done or ever could do, would ever make Jacques feel about me the same way that I...thought that I felt for him.” A heavy blush rose to his cheeks as he gently stroked the skin of Madeline’s cheeks, loving the way that her skin felt against his.

A heavy blush spread across Madeline’s skin as well. Oliver could feel the heat of it under his hands. “Thought?”

“Because my heart is already right where it belongs… I’m not going to be going anywhere, and I’m not going to be leaving your side for a very long time. You may have fallen out of the sky for me, but my heart fell for you the moment that I saw you.” Oliver nodded, his thumb brushing across Madeline’s lips. “May I?”

Swallowing, Madeline’s eyes widened as she nodded, already leaning into Oliver. “Yes.”

Their lips collided in a blaze of passion, arms twining around each other as they held onto each other with the desperation that came from nearly losing the other. When they pulled away from the kiss, both were breathless, leaning their foreheads together and gently caressing one another.

“You would give up your old life, just for me…” Madeline murmured, her eyes watering slightly.

Oliver placed a chaste kiss to her forehead as he pulled her closer against him, propping his chin on top of her head and looking up at the starlit sky. He held her as if she were the most precious thing in his life. “My mother used to tell me stories of a land where stars used to come to Earth and dance with the people and how much the stars loved music… So every night before she died, I used to sing or play music in the hopes that I would get to meet one of the stars from Mother’s stories…”

A small smile pulled at Madeline’s lips. “So it was you after all. I knew I was right. I had wondered why you had stopped…”

Sinking down to sit beneath the tree, Oliver pulled Madeline close to him, her back pressed firmly against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I stopped the day that she died… Music didn’t feel like it had any meaning after that, and so I became an apprentice to a baker when I was old enough… But then, tonight… I was given my mother’s old violin that she used to have before she died. She had left it as a present for my eighteenth birthday, apparently, and so… I had decided to play her favorite song for her…”

“You must miss her terribly…” Madeline murmured, linking her fingers with Oliver’s and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I do,” Oliver whispered, feeling tears threatening to well up in his eyes for the second time that night. “I’ve always loved music, and while I’m a good baker, music is everything to me… It reminds me of my mother...and it brought us together.”

A silence settled between the two before Madeline spoke up. “Then why don’t we travel the land and bring music to the people?”

Oliver blinked in surprise, staring down at Madeline. “Are you sure about that, love? Wouldn’t you rather have a stable home or someone who’s richer or--” Lips pressing against his cut him off, and he all but melted into the kiss and the hands that found their way into his hair.

“Ollie, my home is wherever you are, and as long as I get to spend every night in your arms, there’s no other place that I would rather be.” When she smiled, she seemed to glow with starlight. “You already came back for me. Why would I want or choose anything else?”

A heavy weight seemed to lift itself from his shoulders as he set the violin case up against the tree. Laying down in the grass, Oliver pulled Madeline down next to him. Those words were just what he needed to hear. “I don’t know. But I know I wouldn’t choose any differently…” he murmured, pressing his lips against Madeline’s.

And they fell asleep like that, limbs entwined and entangled, exchanging kisses beneath the starlit sky. What the new day would bring, neither of them knew, but they knew that they would face it together.

#aphrarepairweek2019 #2p England #Nyo Canada #2p France #aph germania #aph britannia #mama britannia #EngCan #CanEng #Maple Tea #or as i like to call these two in particular #Cake Batter #stardust #hetalia #aph #fantasy #fanfic #fiction

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xpoppymorganx · 5 years

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isn’t that POPPY MORGAN? yeah that is HER, sitting there at the RAVENCLAW table with those other SIXTH years and i think i heard sybill saying they look like CRISTINE PROSPERI… whoever that is! when she looks into her crystal ball she sees leather bound books, the aroma of flowers blooming, fire breathing dragons, eye glasses with thick lenses, warm hugs, and fuzzy blankets for luxurious naps. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty STRICT, FASTIDIOUS, and WELCOMING. apparently they’re a MUGGLEBORN but i’m sure that’s not related.

BASICS;; AGE → sixteen DOB → march 23rd, 1960 SEX → female SEXUALITY → unsure BLOOD STATUS → muggleborn RELATIONSHIP STATUS → single

APPEARANCE;; HEIGHT → 5’ 3” EYES → brown HAIR → brown STYLE → cute & reserved

AT HOGWARTS;; HOUSE → ravenclaw WAND → fir wood, dragon heartstring, 10 1/2”, supple PATRONUS → floating flower petals BOGGART → massive crashing waves EXTRACURRICULARS → prefect & gobstones club & dueling club

FAMILY;; HOMETOWN → cardiff, wales PARENTS → bryn (née collier) & paul morgan SIBLINGS: → daphne & briony (muggles) PETS → her owl, heath FAMILY DYNAMIC → a military type upbringing was difficult on the three girls growing up, however it taught them each discipline and responsibility. as the youngest of three daughters and the only witch in the family, poppy was thrilled and confused when she got her letter from hogwarts. there was contention with daphne (the middle sister), but the eldest sister, briony, was thrilled for her. because she was the youngest, poppy was always trying to prove herself but felt she could never live up to the expectations set for her so when she went to hogwarts, she made it her mission to succeed and be noticed as such. while she grew up under strict lock and key, she still maintained a child-like nature, a dichotomy she struggles with everyday because “you can’t be both at once,” her father always said.

PERSONALITY;; LIKES → honesty, all night intellectual conversations, lavender tea with a hint of cream and sugar, plants but particularly flowers, the sense of reality, naps, everything having its place, the smell of books, ponytails, history DISLIKES → closed-mindedness, rule-breaking, cigarette smoke, bad manners, chaos, wrinkled clothes, olives FEARS → instability, loneliness, being seen as incompetent, water, the unknown, germs, confined spaces STRENGTHS → strong-willed, honest to the core (almost to a fault but with good intentions), loyal to friends and family, highly intelligent, leader, perceptive, determined, curious WEAKNESSES → tunnel vision, control issues, spurts of anger, stubborn, overly competitive

HEADCANONS;; → all three girls were named after different flowers per their mother’s request. poppy got her namesake due to its significance surrounding her grandfather who died just before she was born. the poppy has been known to symbolize eternal sleep and peace. her parents weren’t being morbid, in fact it was quite the opposite. they wanted poppy to be as spunky as the name sounds while remembering that life is short and must be taken care of gently. → poppy always loved the water. she would swim whenever she had the chance, she took constant baths over showers and played in the rain. however, when she was ten years old, her family went to the watery edge of wales over the weekend and while she was playing the water, she was pulled down so long she nearly drowned. waking up to her father doing cpr, poppy swore she would never go near the water again, leaving her claustrophobic and landlocked. → wishes she could play quidditch but doesn’t feel well-equipped. this causes doubts within herself because she’s always able to do things well and the game is something she greatly enjoys watching. while she sees the players zip through the air, there’s a piece of her that is secretly jealous that she can’t hover in the air, beating the daylights out of fellow classmates for the sheer joy and competitive nature of it.

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN;; → aries. the presence of aries always marks the beginning of something energetic and turbulent. they are continuously looking for dynamic, speed and competition, always being the first in everything - from work to social gatherings. it is one of the most active zodiac signs and is in their nature to take action, sometimes before they think about it well. they have excellent organizational skills and you’ll rarely meet an aries who isn’t capable of finishing several things at once. strong personalities born under this sign have a task to fight for their goals, embracing togetherness and teamwork through this incarnation. aries rules the head and leads with the head. its representatives are naturally brave and rarely afraid of trial and risk. they possess youthful strength and energy, regardless of their age.

CONNECTIONS/WANTED CONNECTIONS;;

siblings → briony & daphne (both muggles; not at hogwarts) best friend → romantic interest → enemy → friendly rival → unexpected friend → protector → looks out for → tutor to → open to other ideas!

#petrificus.intro #bio #wanted connections

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ofvixlcts-blog · 5 years

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❝ fire in her bones, honey in her soul. she’s sweet when she has to be, and fierce when she needs to be. ❞

GINNY GARDNER? No, that’s actually VIOLET LONGBOTTOM. A SEVENTH YEAR student, this GRYFFINDOR student is sided with DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY. SHE identifies as CIS WOMAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be RECKLESS, PROUD, and UNFORGIVING but also OPTIMISTIC, DETERMINED, and GREGARIOUS.

pinterest / stats page / wanted connections

she was born to a mother who didn’t have the means to care for her and a father that didn’t care in general. violet’s mother gave her up for adoption as soon as was born, not even opting to hold her newborn daughter. the too young witch didn’t want any opportunity to fall in love with the wee tot. violet doesn’t care however, doesn’t want to know about the woman. she may be dna but she isn’t violet’s mother.

she was adopted by neville and hannah longbottom not long after and she quickly became one of the family. with the arrival of her younger sisters, along with the extended ‘and not quite biological’ family of the potters and the weasleys (and the other friends of her parents). she may not have been related to them by blood but she considers them all family and with that comes a loyalty streak a mile long.

growing up surrounded by such strong women, it was no wonder that violet longbottom modelled herself to honour the women that inspired her.

firstly, there’s her great grandmother augusta. while yes, augusta could be horrid to neville, now, you uses her pestering to annoy her great grandchildren with stories and violet was always far too willing to listen. her parents didn’t mind, it was the only way to get little violet to sit down and be still. so she lapped up stories of wix that had gone before her, the brave and courageous that fought for the good side and about the mean evil bad side. it was pretty black and white thinking and it’s definitely a trait that violet took. she doesn’t tend to see the grey in any situation, looking at life in quite a black and white mentality. it’s also quite easy for her to do that too… she’s never had to worry about a moral calamity in her time (but that just might change…). other things she picked up from her great grandmother was her pride and pigheadedness so thanks augusta.

the heroine in most of augusta’s stories seemed to be alice longbottom herself (or maybe that’s because violet requested them so often). from a young age, the longbottom family didn’t hide the tragedy violet’s grandparents had gone through. violet only knew that it was awful but it was easy to forget the tragic ending to the story when the subject was so full of life. perhaps there were a few embellishments in the stories but violet grew up idolising this woman she’d never met but was all she ever wanted to be. when violet did meet her grandmother however, the fantasy came crashing down. violet couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe that this frail, wispy woman was the same that had defied voldemort and countless other death eaters. needless to say, it was the first and last time violet had ever visited alice and from that moment on, she never really liked entering hospitals. hated it actually. as neville steered young violet out as visiting hours were almost over, all violet could see was death and decay and it chilled her to the bone. she never wanted to end up there, never wanted to visit it again. her fear manifested greatly as she got older and started to live life to the absolute fullest, knowing it could be taken away at any moment. her fear got so bad that even a trip to the hospital wing when she was at school would make her jumpy.

her mother who straight up is the loveliest woman in violet’s eyes, an absolute angel who could do no wrong. vi holds so much love??? for hannah??? it’s insane like okay she’s a complete daddy’s girl but her mum holds such an important place in her heart no one could even hold a candle to it (not even ginny weasley her absolute idol). hannah is the reason violet is such an optimist, she always taught vi to see the bright side and to look at the beauty in everything. she’s the reason violet is so caring and compassionate towards most people. i mean of course she has her moments but could you imagine how bad she would’ve been if hannah didn’t tell her to be nice and include everyone? i don’t even wanna think about it.

then there’s ginny weasley. all i’m gonna say is violet would have a shrine to dedicated to her if it wasn’t that creepy (wouldn’t we all). ginny is definitely the reason violet went out for quidditch professionally but it’s not even her career it’s just who she is?? as a person violet would be starstruck always if she didn’t basically grow up around her.

violet has a competitive streak a mile long. on a scale between one and insane, she’s creeping on oliver wood levels. as the eldest, she developed a sense of leadership and with that, she got a little competitive and a little loud and it’s only gotten worse as she got older. playing quidditch and becoming the captain of the gryffindor team has channeled the aggression and competitiveness into a place where it should be. she loves her team and would do anything for them. the feeling might not be mutual however when she encourages runs around the school grounds at the crack of dawn.

becoming the captain has made violet ecstatic. it’s one step closer to her accomplishing her childhood dreams of becoming a professional quidditch player. she plays beater for gryffindor currently but can play chaser (and does when some of her teammates land themselves in detention....). vi likes to think she’s a good captain but has a work hard, play hard mentality and her passion and drive to win is mirrored by her ability to easily get distracted and good off during drills.

though with the current state of the wizarding world, playing quidditch might not pan out and..... violet isn’t sure what she’ll do. she likes defence against the dark arts and duelling but she isn’t quite sure being an auror is right for her. there isn’t enough to appeal to her and she thought about being a herbologist or going down a botany angle but it didn’t seem… lively enough. while she loves herbology and plants and all that, it’s more of a hobby than something she wants to spend the rest of her life doing.

ever since she was young, violet has been a social little bee. she likes to think she can sit down and make friends with just about anybody and that’s usually the case. friendship is such a big thing to violet and she cherishes all of her friends and is the first one there to back you and support you, whether it be a fight or you need someone to make you laugh. as mentioned before, loyalty is such a big thing for her and she would drop everything to help her friends and family. i mentioned it before but violet really likes to live life to the fullest and sitting still and doing nothing? not an option for her. she’d rather be out socialising or going on adventures or even working. even so, violet is definitely the kind of person you’d call for a good night out or a wacky scheme or just an adventure. she’s not one to say no, to anything. however she’s also not the type of person who takes much time to think about the consequences before she acts.

fun facts:

is a 7th year gryffindor. the sorting hat thought about hufflepuff for a brief two seconds but ultimately decided she’d flourish with the lions. the main traits she conveys for the house were bravery, determination, recklessness and daring.

born on april 12th, making her an aries

her wand is a hard, 13" wand made out of sycamore with a phoenix tail feather core

hard - as such, this type of wand is best suited for wizards and witches who are gifted, stubborn, and never give up. Owners of this wand also have a tendency to view things in absolutes; black or white. Some people may find them intimidating or difficult to approach.

sycamore - the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world’s most highly-prized wand woods.

phoenix tail feather - those who are very kind, brave, courageous, noble, wise, willing, self-sacrificing, bright, strong-willed, out-going, friendly and/or loyal would have this wand core. Like Dragon Heartstring cores, such cores bond well with those wizards and witches that are exceptionally powerful. Having such a wand core suggests that your loyalty and courageous nature is much admired amongst your friends.

her boggart is of herself lying in a hospital bed while the people she loves the most walk away and abandon her

her patronus is a collie and ‘those with the patronus of a collie are energetic and affectionate. They are friendly creatures, looking for friendships anywhere they go. To them, such relationships are much like family, and they are strictly loyal in this way. The only emotion that matches their love for others is their thirst for adventure, and they are quick to jump into any interesting opportunity that they can. However, this can also be an issue, as they tend to be impulsive, which can get them into sticky situations’.

the memory that allows her to produce a corporeal patronus is the memory of her father teaching her to dance when she was younger. she was about ten or so and she’s standing on neville’s toes as he goes through the motions of some formal dance before swinging her around and it just makes her heart swell every time she thinks about it, it’s so pure and soft. also cheers to neville for unlocking her love of dance, whether formal or impromptu. yeah, she’s the type of person to break into dance in the middle of the hallway, it’s a problem

flower child to the extreme. loves her plants

chaotic to the max. is the type to adopt a blast ended skrewt

#iidyintro #will i ever keep an intro short? sources say no

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haveamagicalday · 5 years

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My 2018 Reads

Let me start by saying that I have read almost 100 books this year (some short stories but I like to count those too) I’m going to make a separate list for my top ten but here are the other ones!

4 Stars

Two Dark Reigns by Kendare Blake

This is the third book in the Three Dark Crowns series. It’s a dark tale about three sisters who have to compete against each other for the crown. There are a lot of characters to follow which means they aren’t always that well developed but the story is so so enthralling.

The Cheerleaders by Kara Thomas

Loosely based on real events, the novel follows Monica whose older sister was one of five cheerleaders to die under mystery circumstances. Five years after the deaths, Monica discovers something that could help her solve what really happened. This was a gripping read with some great twists

Beneath the Haunting Sea by Joanna Ruth Meyer

This book flew under the radar this year which is a shame because it was a great read. Talia gets banished to a dreary island where she stumbles upon ancient legends that may be more real than she realizes. I will admit, the first third of this book was a little wack. It was like a different book but it got much better once she got to the island.

The Wicked Deep by Shea Ernshaw

A melancholy tale of a trio of ghosts that lure young boys to their deaths each summer. Our main character is a life long resident of the town who is just trying to make it through the summer. I’ll admit, it got a little messy in the end but for a debut novel, I thought it was very engaging.

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

I’m late on this one, I know. Rachel commutes to work everyday. Then one day she sees something she wasn’t supposed too that leads her down a dark spiral to find out what really happened. Definitely a turn pager that has more than one mystery to solve.

The Woman in the Window by AJ Finn

This year’s breakout mystery/suspense novel. Anna is confined to her house, spending her days in a group chat or playing online chest. When a seemingly perfect family moves in across from her, she becomes entangled in a mystery when she sees something she shouldn’t one night. An unreliable narrator will keep you guessing what’s real and what’s not.

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han

If you love the movie, you will love the book. An adorable, sweet read!

3.5 Stars

Scream All Night by Derek Milman

Dario grew up on the set of various B-horror movies. That’s because his family owns the studio that makes them. Dario has tried to distance himself from his family but is forced to return when his brother invites him to a very special event involving their father. Darkly funny and unique, this was a twisted take on a young man coming to terms with his past.

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black

Vampires are on the rise and to accommodate them all, the US government creates quarantined cities known as Coldtowns. Vampires must live in Coldtowns but for humans, it’s optional. But once you are in, it’s nearly impossible to get out. Holly Black creates an imaginative take on vampires. The book starts off a little slow but really picks up when our main character arrives at Coldtown. My only complaint is that this wasn’t a series. There was so much packed into this book that could have easily been expanded upon over the course of a few books.

Sometimes I Lie by Alice Feeney

Amber is in a coma. She can’t move or remember anything but she’s pretty sure her husband has something to do with her current state. The book alternates between past and present as Amber struggles to remember what happened to her. I found some of the twists convoluted and kooky but they were definitely original. Trigger Warning: there is a very graphic rape scene

3 Stars

Final Girls by Riley Sager

Quincy is one of 3 media named Final Girls; the last ones standing during a horror movie like massacre that killed their friends. Now Quincy is all grown up but still trying to forget what happened the night her friends were murdered when one of the other Final Girls shows up at her doorstep, forcing her to revisit her past.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust

A Snow White retelling with a unique twist! Mina, the future queen, has a heart made of glass, crafted by her magician father. Lynet, our Snow White, is the spitting image of her dead mother. Then one day Lynet discovers that the king had hired Mina’s father to craft Lynet out of snow in her mother’s image after she died. Alternating between Mina’s past and Lynet’s present, this is a sweet and simple fairytale retelling!

Hex Hall series by Rachel Hawkins

Sophie is a teenaged witch with wayward powers. She gets sent to Hex Hall, a magical reform school, to learn how to better control her powers. This book was a fun read. I think I would have liked it more if I were still a teenager. The stakes never really seemed all that high but it was fairly entertaining.

Sea Witch by Sarah Henning.

The Little Mermaid from the point of view of the sea witch. Well, sort of. Evie is a witch, best friends with a prince, whose other best friend, Anna drowned when they were children. Now, a girl who bears a striking resemblance to Anna, appears on the beach one day and she is determined to make the prince fall in love with her. Honestly, I was far more interested in Annemette than Evie. I think this would have been a really interesting story from her point of view instead.

To Kill and Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

Another Little Mermaid retelling but this time, the mermaid is a siren whose mission is to steal the prince’s heart. Literally. The first chapter of this book made it seem like this would be much darker than it ended up being. The romance was a little weak but still, this was an interesting take on the tale and an enjoyable read.

The Enchanted Sonata by Heather Dixon Wallwork

A Nutcracker retelling. In this version, Clara is a musician who receives a mysterious nutcracker on Christmas. She ends up whisked away to a magical world where all the children have been turned into toys and it seems that her, and her music, is the only thing that can turn them back. The Nutcracker is very dear to me, so I was overly critical of this book. It didn’t bear too much resemblance to the ballet or original fairy tale and it read more middle grade than YA. Still it was a cute read.

And the Ocean Was Our Sky by Patrick Ness

I absolutely loved A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness so I was excited for this. It was very different than what I was expecting. Simply put, this is Moby Dick told from the perspectives of whales. It was bizarre and I don’t really think I understood it fully but I’ve also never read Moby Dick before. The pictures were beautiful though and it is a very quick read.

Imposters by Scott Westerfeld

A new series that takes place in the Uglies universe. Frey and Rafi are twins but people only know Rafi. Frey has been raised to fight and be Rafi’s body double. I really enjoyed this book because of it’s connection to Uglies. Had I not read Uglies as a teen, I’m not sure this book would have held up on its own.

Lucy in the Sky

From the same author that did Go Ask Alice, this book is presented as a diary of a young girl that spirals out of control due to drug use. Objectively, this book isn't that great. The writing is poor, the story is unrealistic and it almost seems to glorify drugs rather than turn you off to them. BUT, it's enticing just like the other books in this series. It pulls you in and you want to keep reading. I read it in one sitting.

From Twinkle, with Love by Sandhya Menon

Twinkle is an aspiring film director. With the help of a geeky classmate, Twinkle embarks on making her first film for a local film festival. Along the way, Twinkle learns about friendship, family and love. A delightful fluffy read for fans of romantic comedies.

What Should be Wild by Julia Fine

This is a hard book to describe. Our main character is a girl who has been kept hidden from society due to a rare gift (or curse perhaps). Anything she touches dies, and anything that’s already dead comes back to life due to her touch as well. The story was bizarre and not entirely satisfying but it certainly was intriguing. I think it boils down to a matter of taste and I’m sure others could find much more merit in it than I did!

Love & Gelato by Jenna Evans Welch

After the death of her mother, Lina is spending the summer in Italy with a father she never knew. While there, she is given her mother’s old journal which sends her down a journey to her mother’s past. With her mother’s guidance Lina discovers the magic that Italy has to offer. A cute and heartfelt read with some classic teen romance.

Undead Girl Gang by Lily Anderson

Mila’s best friend is dead and she wants to know who is responsible. So why not ask her? With an old grimoire, Mila finds a sleep to bring her best friend back and accidentally brings back two other murdered girls as well. With the spell’s limited time Mila and her undead girl gang try to solve the mysterious behind their deaths. Quirky, fun but also enthralling, this is a very original book.

Spellbook of the Lost and Found by Moira Fowley-Doyle

Best friends Olive and Rose begin to lose things. First it’s only small things but soon bigger things are going lost. Everything changes for the two when they meet 3 strangers in the woods and a mysterious spell book. At times, this was a very confusing read. I’m still not sure I fully understood it but the story was engaging and fairy tale like. A lovely read.

Far Far Away by Tom McNeal

A modern fairy tale like read. What starts off as a whimsical turns drastically dark as the story progresses. Our main character, Jeremy is somewhat of an outcast but attracts the attention of an outgoing and outspoken local girl. The most interesting aspect of this book is that Jeremy is able to speak to ghosts and the ghost of Jacob Grimm (who wrote all those fairy tales) has been his friend for years. Entirely random but a fantastic addition.

The Darkest Corners by Kara Thomas

Another YA thriller from Thomas. This was her first novel and I think it shows. It’s weaker than the other books she has written but still good. However, the last 3rd felt like a completely different book which was a bit jarring. If you like murder mystery/unsolved crimes, you’ll like this but definitely check out her other books too!

How to Hang a Witch by Adriana Mather

Our main character is a descendant of Cotton Mather, the man who sentenced women to their deaths during the Salem Witch Trails. Samantha moves to Salem with her stepmother and finds that she is not welcomed by her fellow classmates, descendants of the witches. And it turns out there might actually be some magic in Salem after all. This was silly fun. I was expecting something more like Chilling Adventures of Sabrina but that’s not the tone of this book at all. The love triangle was a little annoying and there was a reveal that was bizarre but overall it was an entertaining book.

Renegades by Marissa Meyer

I absolutely loved the Cinder series and Heartless but I wasn’t feeling this one so much. There’s nothing really wrong with it, the characters are well developed and the writing is good, however I just couldn’t gather any enthusiasm for it. I will say that the writing was rather slow and I felt that the book could have been a lot shorter than it was but if you like superheroes and villains, you should like this.

2.5 Stars

Ever by Gail Carson Levine

This is a retelling of the Biblical tale about Jephthah but had more of a Greek mythology feel with a cast of many gods and goddesses. It was a weird mixture of mythology and focused on a very weak romance. I think this book was aimed more for middle grade and might be more enjoyable for them.

Midnight Sun by Trish Cook

Yes, I read the novelization of the Bella Thorne movie that came out earlier this year. Yes, it was poorly written, the plot was laughable, and the romance cheesy. But, it was a quick read that kept my interest.

2 Stars

My Plain Jane by Cynthia Hand, Jodi Meadows and Brodi Ashman

I received this in my owlcrate and I’m still wondering why. The book is a retelling of Jane Eyre combined with ghostbusters because in this version, Jane can talk to ghosts. There’s also a secret ghost hunting society that wants recruit her but she’d rather be a nanny for Mr. Rochester. I really didn’t like this. The attempt at humor throughout was almost painful, the characters were dumb and I don’t understand why this book exists in the first place. I think it would have been better if it was just about Victorian era ghost hunters and not incorporate Jane Eyre in any way. This is part of a series in which the authors rewrite (very quirkily!) famous stories starring a character named Jane. From the reviews I read, their first book, My Lady Jane, was much better but I don’t even want to attempt to read it after this one.

September Girls by Bennett Madison

This is one of those books that I kept reading because of how bad it was. Sam is spending the summer in a small beach town that is overfilled with The Girls. That’s what Sam calls them because they are all blonde and beautiful. Turns out they are some sort of mermaid? It’s never really explained and they are all cursed and need to have sex with a virgin man in order to be free. Enter our sexist virgin, Sam. The women are written terribly, referred to as sluts and shanks and their asses and breasts are always mentioned. I have no idea how this book got published. But damn, was it fun to laugh at. Number of breast/chest/boob mentions: 27

Poetry (Both 5 Stars)

The Princess Saves Herself in This One by Amanda Lovelace

This book felt very personal to me (like I was reading the author’s inner thoughts) and I couldn’t always relate to some of the poems. I felt that the sequel dealt more with women’s issues on a whole and has something all women could relate too. Her poems are breathtaking though and so powerful.

The Witch Doesn’t Burn in This One by Amanda Lovelace

I picked this up out of curiosity and ended up reading it in one sitting. It is absolutely stunning. I think every woman should read this. Hell, I think every man should read this too. I can’t wait for the third one!

Short stories

The Language of Thorns: Midnight Tales and Dangerous Magic by Leigh Bardugo (5 Stars)

Holy smokes, this was breathtaking! A collection of six short stories based on fairy tales/mythology. The stories are so utterly original though. Clever, satisfying with feminist themes. This is a must read for fairy tale lovers!

Amazon’s Dark Corners Collection by Various Authors

I happened to see this advertised on Goodreads and got it for free on Amazon Kindle Cloud Reader. This collection is 7 short stories of the horror variety. It’s hard to rate these since they are all written by different authors. I didn’t find any of these stories all that scary though. More so just sad. Interesting, but not all that gripping. My favorite stories were Miao Dao by Joyce Carol Oates and Sleep Tight Motel by Lisa Unger but I wouldn’t really recommend the others. Trigger Warning: The Remedy deals with depression and suicide and has a rather offensive/problematic ending.

Snow, Glass, Apples by Neil Gaiman (4 Stars)

This is a very dark retelling of Snow White from the queen’s point of view. Snow White is not the darling princess she is often portrayed as. This short story is very adult but not overly graphic. You can read it for free at the link I provided.

Matchless by Gregory Maguire (3 Stars)

A quick reimagining of The Little Match Girl. The main character isn’t the match girl but a young boy whose life intertwines with the match girl’s. This short story didn’t add anything new to the story since it’s focuses on an original character. The match girl is just briefly there. My feelings for this were mutual.

Re-reads

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares (5/4 Stars)

One of my favorite summer rereads!

Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot (5 stars)

Just as delightful and funny as the first time I read the series as a young teen

Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen (5 Stars

I’ve gotten into the habit of rereading this book every summer. It’s a book that can be read in one sitting and is so heartfelt.

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen (5 Stars)

This is my all time favorite Sarah Dessen novel. I highly recommend all of her novels.

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black (4 Stars)

This takes place in the same world as the Cruel Prince. Some of the characters even appear in the latter novel. This is a standalone that reads like a modern fairy tale.

#kendare blake #this was fun #two dark reigns #the cheerleaders #kara thomas #beneath the haunting sea #the witch doesn't burn in this one #the princess saves herself in this one #the wicked deep #the girl on the train #the woman in the window #to all the boys i've loved before #the jungle book #litature #ya literature #non disney #my post

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